The Jo Collective
by trenadie
Summary: A series of vignettes and drabbles about Jo's experiences hunting, scattered all over the Winchester's time line. Turning into a sort-of prequel/sequel to Hunter's Playlist. Not in seasonal order.
1. Fresh Blood

**DISCLAIMER:** This fanfic is for fun, I don't own anything!

**Note:** At first I published this episode a lot shorter, but afterwards I just kept building on it, so I added what I wrote later, I hope it meshed well!

* * *

Season 3

* * *

**Albany, New York**

It had taken me ten minutes to get his attention. It wasn't hard, I knew he would be the type to lurk at the bar, to stare out into the red lighted dance floor.

There was only three lurkers tonight; a young dark-skinned gentleman in a blazer, an attractive yet reserved man in his thirties and another younger man who wore pants that are perhaps too tight.

Now I had to wait and see which sought me out.

I did match the usual victim profile.

As a precaution to ensure his interest, I got all dolled up for the part; red lips, slim eyeliner on my lid, mascara lifting my lashes to black perkiness. I curled my hair and noticed how long it had been since I got it cut, it was near the small of my back now.

I wore skinny jeans, black ones that fit snuggly to my thighs, and a darkened purple glimmering thin strap top that covered my torso, lifting slightly before my black belt. No need for a bra. My thick-heeled black Steve Madden ankle boots I had found at a thrift store clad fashionably yet functionally to my feet.

I did enjoy dressing up for the part, there was fun to it and I let myself express my ego through it. Yeah, I looked hot. I'm admittedly vain, so what?

I danced on the edge of the floor, grouping myself with a band of taller women who had darker colored hair than my own.

Tight pants was talking to another man at the very first stool, drink in hand. Blazer was busy checking his phone.

Thirties guy had his eyes locked onto the crowd. Was he looking at me?

I affirmed he spotted me when he shifted to the third barstool instead of the seventh he was on, to get a better look at me.

Faking that fact that I was too hot to be on the dance floor one minute more, I shrugged past a light crowd, making sure I moved slowly enough for him to keep me in his line of sight.

Down the stairs, I threw myself at the bar, two stools down from him, breathing hard from the dance.

"You're quite the dancer."

Seriously? You're gonna one-line me like that?

"I _love _to dance." I smiled wide.

"What drink will you have?

He moved down a barstool closer to me.

"I donned a drink." I said with a slight slur, "Honestly I've hada few already. I just wish I had some _blooow_!"

I sang the last exclamation, giggling.

"I have something you might be interested in." He grinned.

I matched it, letting my hair flip over to tempt him, "Oh really?"

Next thing's next, I was walking out the door with him, my arms around his waist as if to support myself, and his arm slacked around my shoulder, leading me into an alley.

How cliche.

Once secluded in the alley, he smiled down at me, and said, "This new substance is…thicker than most."

I chuckled, "You're sick."

My left crept behind, to the pocket of my miniaturized purse slug over my torso and laying on my butt. Inside, I grabbed the syringe, dead man's blood waiting to poison the vamp in front of me.

He pulled the stopper out of the vial, the crimson fluid seemingly stagnant within.

"You ready sweetie?"

I drew myself closer to him, my nose rubbing against his shirt, against the midline of his body, trailing up to his neck and brushing my lips there. During this, my left raised behind him, lightly rubbing on the back of my hand that didn't grip the syringe.

"One taste of this, and you'll never be the-"

I brought the needle up and quickly down, intending to jab it into his neck.

He caught my wrist.

Fuck.

He started down at me, eyes alight with interest.

This situation just got very dangerous very fast.

Maybe I played this one too close-literally.

I thrust the heel of my palm into his nose, which stumbled him backward slightly, and tired to put distance between us, but he grabbed my throat with his other hand so fast, and backed me into the wall behind without even realizing that it had been near at all.

Talk about superhuman speed and strength.

"I smelled the Dead Man's blood as soon as you took it out of your purse."

I flexed and pushed all my strength to move the needle down, just to rake on his skin- but he slammed my wrist twice against the wall behind for it to drop and shatter.

I clawed at his supernaturally strong hand. His body offering no leverage keeping me pinned against it.

"I am two hundred and eleven years old, you really think a pretty Hunter like yourself hasn't tried this approach already?"

As he spoke my other hand not straining for freedom fumbled for my stained dead blood blade.

"Now, now." He grasped my escaping wrist with his large hand, and pinned it over my head as he looked me over, "Maybe not quite like yourself. You'll do perfectly, sweetie."

He nipped at my neck and I growled as he drew blood there and licked it, traveling to my ear, "yummy."

I shuddered, sickened.

I kept my jaws clamped, anger swelled at the unescapable situation.

"Your turn." He flicked his finger over a gruesome fang, blood swelling in response.

I writhed as he brought the finger closer to my lips-

"C'mon, sweetie."

A rough hand caught him at his wrist, before the blood could touch.

Vamp and I both turned to see the face attached to the hand.

Dean Winchester didn't hesitate to meet his other fist to the vampire's face.

The undead man fell into the momentum of the punch, collapsing into the wall diagonally away from me.

Another set of hands laid themselves on my shoulders, while Dean went head-long into the fight.

"Jo?"

"Sam?"

That shouldn't have been a question, where there was one Winchester the brother was soon to follow.

We turned our attentions to Dean's exchange of violences with the vampire, now behind me.

The creature wriggled out of the older Winchester's hold, spun around and threw his front body against the wall painfully.

The vamp took off then, and I didn't hesitate to follow, pulling out my father's Bowie knife that had been stained with the dead man's blood earlier.

"Dean!" I heard Sam say behind.

My eyes glued to his back, but he was moving so fast- he turned the corner-

"JO!" I heard Dean's echo against the tall walls surrounding them.

But when I turned another alley corner, there were two forms instead of one; with guns in their hands.

Vaguely, I knew them, I slowed from my run and the dim light of the night revealed more of their faces.

Kubrick and Gordon.

Any more hunters want to just show up for my first vamp kill?

"Jo?" Kubrick sounded utterly surprised.

"Why is everyone-" I panted as the brothers skidded to a halt just a few feet behind me, "here?"

Gordon stepped forward, directly staring at Sam beyond my left shoulder, and held out a Glock.

Woah, gun in my direction.

"JO!" Dean shouted just as Gordon got the first shot off.

He lunged behind a car, Sam followed, and I followed Sam, instinctively running from flying bullets from both Kubrick and Gordon.

Before I could hide from the shots behind it, my right elbow was slammed with pain. My legs continued, and my elbow hit the brick wall again, the force of it tremendously heavy and for a split second I acknowledged that it was probably broken.

"WHAT THE FUCK-" I shouted out the pain over the discharges, as we traveled down the length of the car, ducked.

Dean dropped, back against the graffitied wall, breathing heavily. Sam parked next to him, I did the same.

The gunfire ceased, and static buzzed in my ears.

My elbow was throbbing.

Why was it the second the Winchesters showed their faces, it added some kinda hell to my current situation?

Dean was peaking his eye out over the wall's corner, while Sam brushed glass off, and I tenderly inspected my elbow.

There was blood there, leaking out...

I heard the familiar quick clicks of two Glocks reloading in the alley behind the wall.

There was a hole in my jacket...this was no funny bone hit too hard.

Dean turned to us, head rolling on the wall.

"All right. Run. I'll draw them off."

"What?!" Sam protested, as Dean rolled his head back, "You're crazy!"

Before I could tell them I was shot, Dean was off.

Rapid firing compressed my eardrums once again. I had no choice but to go now.

My other hand clasped around the blood-slicked area, applying pressure and causing more blood to trickle. I got to my feet and ran back down the length of the car, from where we came, elbow agonized by the movement. Sam filed behind then stepped to match my shorter, frantic strides to escape.

"My car, this way!" I panted, turning to a new direction, and he followed.

By the time we reached my car, my body was experiencing symptoms of the inevitable. My skin was strangely cooled, my breathing staggered (not just from the running), and my knees weak.

"You drive. My keys are in my pocket."

Sam's eyes questioned me, until he saw the blood, "Jo!"

"I'm...shock." Was all I managed to say.

He rushed over to me, and my knees buckled, my weight against him.

I could feel him digging into my pocket, just as I could feel my eyes open, but I saw nothing. The static clouding my vision and the numb needling sensations harmonized and overwhelmed the rest of my body, and I was gone.

* * *

My hearing faded in first.

"Listen to my voice and tell me if I'm serious."

My first semi-delirious thought; Dean was serious.

_Snap._

"You really going to do that Dean?"

Sam's voice was frustrated, and concerned.

"You don't think she deserves it?" the elder expressed his own anger through inflection.

"She deserves whatever is coming for her, but murder?"

"It was _her_ choice to send _murderers_ after US, alright? It got Jo shot and could have gotten you or me killed, so yeah, what goes around comes around."

Right, I was shot.

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a bare mattress. My jacket was off, my legs slightly elevated on a pillow, my elbow bandaged thoroughly. On the table beside me there were medical supplies, a bottle of alcohol, sewing meat hook, wire, and a plastic cup filled with clear liquid, holding a bullet inside of it.

"You got it out of me already." I said aloud.

The boys stopped their bickering.

"Jo," Dean sat by my feet, signaling me to stay down with a flat palm, "How are you feeling?"

Sam knelt beside the mattress to gingerly check my wound.

"Peachy keen."

"Take these. You'll feel the pain soon." Sam extended his palm, which laid one big white pill, the other held a bottle of water.

"I don't respond well to peer pressure, Sam." I said with a grimace, sitting myself up with my left arm to take them.

"So, girlie; your first bullet." Dean was grinning darkly, "how was it?"

I gave him a sour face, "Who says it was my first?"

He smirked wider, trying to make light of the situation, I knew.

I turned my attention to Sam, "What's the damage?"

"The bullet struck your Ulnar Nerve, it's why you passed out so hard."

"That and her cherry was popped."

"Shut up." I snapped.

"Luckily, the leather jacket slowed it down some, and it lodged in your skin, tore through your connective tissue and I'm guessing fractured the Medial Epicondyle, maybe the beginning of your Ulna too. You'll have to wear a brace or splint or sling."

"Healing time?"

"I dunno, seven weeks minimum? You should go to a hospital, Jo. You need the right thing to hold it while it heals, and I'm not exactly an expert."

I growled, "Could've fooled me, Doctor Sexy."

Dean quirked an eye-brow at me, "You watch-"

"Oh, come on, I know you watch it too." I furrowed my own brow back at him.

"So I guess Gordon's out of jail." I changed the subject, anger for my new injury setting in, "Thanks for the update."

I laid my eyes specifically on Dean on my last comment, hoping he got my dig about his lack of promised contact after learning about his last year alive.

"Relax, girlie, we're new to this info too." Dean glanced at her, crossing his arms.

"Don't call me that." I rejoined quickly, narrowing my eyes.

"So," Sam interjected our exchange, "We'll take you to the nearest hospital-"

"But the vamp-"

"Is not your hunt anymore. Didn't you hear the doctor? You're out of commission."

"Don't you think you have your hands full with the Grumpy Old Men?" I snapped.

"Speaking of the vamp," Dean spoke over my last words, ignoring them completely, "Do you have a death wish?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why do you insist on hunting things that prefer your cute little blonde profile?"

"Did you just call me cute?"

"That's what your taking away from that?"

"It's better than pretending to care about your lecture, _Dad._"

"Hey, if I hadn't-"

"E_nough_!" Sam shouted above our already elevated conversation with a slight smirk.

After a moment I spoke again, "I'm not going anywhere until I know that you two can handle the vamp _and_ Kubrick _and _Gordon."

"Jo, you need actual medical care-"

"Like you two always do and then never go to the hospital anyway? Stop treating me differently, you misogynist. I know how to take care of a bullet wound, if you remember."

I added another dig to both brothers this time. How quickly they forgot; I removed Dean's bullet myself after Meg (in Sam's body) shot him.

"Besides, it's not like you'll call to let me know you're alive."

Another dig.

Dean opened his mouth, but my throbbing elbow didn't put me in the mood to deal with his half-assed explanations, "I'll be fine right here, making sure you pricks make it out of this one alive, thanks."

The elder brother and I held a stare for some time.

"Fine." he said, a hard look about him, "but if you think you're going to try and sneak around to help us out-"

I smiled, playing with his guilt of no contact ended up getting me what I wanted, "Yeah, no way I'll be moving with that horse pill effecting me."

* * *

Hours later, Dean was sharpening his machete, and Sam cleaning his gun.

I was fading in and out of sleep on the mattress behind them, the shhingg of metal on stone strangely lulling.

When I faded in again, Dean was leaving.

"I'm gonna go check out a few places. Stay here with Sleepy and I'll be back soon."

When Sam turned my eyes were directly on him, "Hi."

"You're awake?"

"I fade in and out, feeling a bit energized right now though."

Sam nodded his head awkwardly, "Need water or anything?"

I picked up the bottle beside me, "I'm good thanks."

Sam then explained that Dean received a tip to where Gordon might be, and he was going to scout it out.

We found ourselves waiting for Dean's arrival swimming in awkwardness.

I hadn't seen Sam before this since he rose from the dead.

I was as weary about it then as I am now, and it was apparent in the air surrounding us. And there was the incident in Duluth, which I had forgiven him for after he repeatedly apologized. I know it wasn't his fault, he had been a victim of Meg's possession too, but every once in a while he would touch me and I would jump, a memory flashed of his body violently on mine.

Being alone with him wasn't exactly what most would call comforting. That piled on top of my chilled panic for their wellbeing now that Gordon was a newly made Vamp on the hunt for them_ and_ the effects of the pain pills had me sweating bullets.

It didn't help my nerves that the brothers were fighting, then having a touching moment, all in front of me. I pretended like I was asleep for most of it, knowing that they needed their brotherly bonding and dealing time now that Dean's year was running out. I had to bite my tongue about the subject too, and hide the tears that flooded to my eyes at the thought of it.

* * *

The brothers dealt with the trouble, as they always did, less than smoothly.

They were both bloodied and beat when they returned to the emptied and mattresses room, but they were alive, and I was happy to have seen parts of it through with them, to know that they were alive.

Before they hit the road one way and I went the other, I was on my feet and off the drugs, saying my good-byes.

Sam was first, awkwardly bending over to level with me, telling me the usual to take care of myself, rest the elbow and such.

Dean was last, wrapping my body perfectly against his, chin at the top of my head.

"Straight to Bobby's, alright? Don't chase after jobs you can't handle, newbie." He warned with a certain smugness, "I can't always be there to save you."

I tilted my head in annoyance at the name and context, "I'm not your damsel, Deano. I can handle more than you think."

"Sure, whatever you say. Just don't get yourself killed."

"How would you know anyway? It's not like you ever actually check up."

He met my eyes for longer than usual, "I will this time."

I scoffed, "Sure."

I glanced away then back at him, but he was still staring at me.

"Just don't go popping anymore cherries without me, alright, girlie?" he winked slyly.

"Don't call me that." I punched his shoulder with my good arm, "And I'll do whatever I want to."

"And I'll call to check up on that." he said, smiling widely as he sat himself inside his black beauty, then took off, thundering down the road with two last farewell waves.

He didn't.


	2. Partner Up

**DISCLAIMER:** This fanfic is for fun, I don't own anything!

* * *

Season 5

* * *

Eyes fixed, body limp, mind without sensation; I watched him eat dinner with his new family.

New family.

That thought sank; perforating down, through my core.

Looks like that punch I swung when we first met had finally been returned with hard interest, sinking deep in my gut.

I had thought dying would have hurt more by comparison.

Well I did die, not a few weeks before, and it was a completely different kind of wrenching feeling. Before Cas pulled me from that abyss with a soft touch of finger to forehead, it felt physically gruesome, as if passing through the dimensions between Earth and Hell was through the sink disposal.

This felt as if I was dumped in hypothermic water, it flooded lungs and constricted my body to a frozen stiffness. I'd be damned if my lips weren't blue from the sight before me.

After his brother saved the world from Lucifer, he was so tore up about it, so detached, so sad…

At the time I understood, after Ash I needed time, after Mom was taken I needed to be alone, to deal.

When he asked for it in his own way, I gave that time to him.

He told me he would call, that we would see each other soon.

We parted with a kiss, crushing our lips together quickly before running out from Bobby's front porch into the rain and to our separate cars.

I was clueless to any other outcome.

Lisa and her son had been mentioned in conversations sparsely. I really only new that Ben was kidnaped by a Changeling mother years ago, and Dean had shared a fly by weekend with her many years previous to that. Given their past relationship, Dean was quiet about it around me, and Sam and Bobby hardly brought it up if Dean wasn't going to.

I didn't even know this was an option for him, didn't even know they were important to him.

Never had I expected he would end up there; living the normal life with them that I dreamt of so ardently with him.

He didn't even tell me.

He didn't even say good-bye.

I had thought we were closer than that. I had thought we were family, and more than that, lovers.

Did I mean anything to him?

No, I shouldn't think like that, I knew I did, the feeling was too natural. We have always had…something. Even if at first I was just a school girl to him, everything we had been through together lifted me up in his book. I knew he felt the same for me, it was an unexplainable connection that was between us.

So why was he here?

Why didn't he say a word?

Why did he choose her over me?

That was the question that suck above all others. That was the question that drove the icepick through the middle of my chest.

The tears were streaming fast down my face, my crying noises small and breathy. I didn't even care.

Watching him with them was too much, and I got an urgent itch to leave, to curl up in a motel, watch Buffy and breakdown.

"Jo?" a voice spoke behind me, impossibly.

I turned to him, mind already frozen.

There he was, supposedly weeks dead, standing under a flickering street light. He had come to see his brother.

How many shocks can I receive in one night? A smile automatically came to face; he was alive!

"_Sam…_"

My sobbing immediately stopped, my smile closed quickly to focus on the new threat.

Weary, I pulled out my Beretta.

Sam didn't make a move, not even to gesture for me not to shoot.

"You're in the pit."

"Obviously not."

"You're not Sam."

"I am. I'm just as confused as you, Jo, I don't know how I'm here or why."

His voice was more direct, his body langue stiff.

I pulled out my flask and threw the holy water inside at his body.

The younger Winchester didn't flinch. He wasn't steaming or screaming either.

Check one, not a Demon.

Sam held out his forearm arm, rolling up the sleeve and extended plainly in the still flickering light. He took a knife from his belt and drew it slowly across, red swelled to the opening of his skin.

Check two, not a monster.

My gun lowered slightly, a sob almost breaking through to my face. I forced it down, swallowing deep. Just a few minutes more, just keep it down until I was in a safer situation.

"And the silver?" my voice strained, due to my uncontrollable body shakes.

Sam gave me a look, "That was silver knife. Jo," he took a step toward me, "it's me."

I felt my entire body contract into a cry again, tears of joy and sorrow mixing and effecting my facial muscles. It broke though, and from there the ball rolled into emotional toils.

I returned my gun to it's holster, and closed the short distance between us. My head fell on his sternum, my arms around his waist. His height was a small comfort, maybe because it made me feel wrapped and secure. As if he was my dad and I was a little girl again.

"Sam, I can't- believe- your- alive!" I gasped through tears and his shirt, my arms tightening around his body to root him there.

His arms slowly copied mine, his body still stiff.

"Are you alright?" his voice sounded low and uncertain.

I shook my head, forehead pressing into the top of his sternum. Pulling my face away, I looked up at his and loosed my grip on his body.

"Are you?" I asked.

"I'm fine." He responded, arms still around me.

"But the cage-"

"Let's not talk about that." Sam rejoined me firmly.

I gulped down bile. It seemed the Winchester brothers never wanted to talk about what was going on with them. It hurt me all over again, another wave swept over me and poured out my eyes.

Apparently I wasn't a 'sister' to him as much as he was a brother to me. Much like how I thought Dean and I were more than this.

I wiped them away quickly, if these two men didn't regard me enough to share, then they didn't deserve to see my emotional reaction either.

Right now they could go fuck themselves.

I stepped out of his arms, which fell back easily to his sides, and finished wiping away my leaks.

"When you tell Dean, let him know I'm happy for him." I couldn't help to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

I changed my tone, remembering how glad I was that Sam was out of Hell, that he was living. Feeling my face contort again, I lunged and gripped him again, pulling him into a hug, on my tiptoes.

"I'm so happy you're alright Sam, really I am."

"Thanks, me too."

His voice drifted down to my ear.

I pulled away completely, letting the tears fall unchecked.

"I'm gonna get out of here." I sniffed, turning on my feet as quickly as I could.

I can't handle this situation, everything was too much.

"Keep in contact alright? You better have me on speed dial." I offered a smile, with no feeling.

"Jo," my name from his lips stopped me in my fleeting tracks, "I'm not here to talk to Dean."

"What?"

Sam swallowed, "Well, before all of it, I wanted Dean to have a life, a real one. I made him promise me. And he did it, surprisingly. He's always wanted a normal life, now he can have it, now he can be happy."

With each word he spoke I felt another stab to my chest, the constriction pulling as if tightening a corset. My stomach experienced a darker form of butterflies.

I should just walk away.

When Sam saw my face he blinked once, his eyes questioning.

"Sorry." he added as an afterthought.

I inhaled, fighting to keep it in until I was in the bed, curled up to Buffy on my laptop.

I cleared my throat, "So, uh, you're just not going to tell your brother you're alive?"

Sam shook his head.

I laughed while crying, "You guys are so fucked up."

"Yeah. I guess so."

"What? So you were just going to watch him?"

"And what were you doing?"

I felt my jaw open in silence.

Sam's head tilted back to the window, where she followed his gaze.

The new family was cleaning up their dinner now, completely unaware of observers. Ben took his dish into an unseen room, leaving Dean and Lisa to speak, lean over and kiss each other lightly.

I sucked in a breath through my nose and jerked my eyes away, my boots, the ground, the light that was still flickering, then to Sam's face.

Oddly, he was already looking at me.

"Hunt with me."

I held my breath for a moment, not expecting his statement to be spoken so abruptly, so out of context.

What is it with the Winchesters and not being able to deal with a situation? Why do they just throw themselves at the next job, or in Dean's case now; woman?

"Sam, I think we both need some time-"

He shook his head, "Come on Jo, Hunting is what we'll always return to, you know that. You once told me that Hunting was what made you feel close to your dad, that must be true for you and your mom too. And even after that, after everything that the supernatural has thrown at us, you know you're not going to stop."

His words were direct and uncoated, giving way to a single silent tear from my eyes.

"Why dwell with time when we could be out there saving people, and hunting things?"

"Why do you want to partner with me?" I snapped.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Safety in numbers, you're a great hunter, company: take your pick."

I shuffled my weight onto my other leg, biting my lip in uncertainty.

Was this their magical cure? Hunt and kill the pain away?

Undoubtably there is anger pent up inside me collected from my past, and now was fixing to boil soon, after my shocking discovery today. It would be good to take that out and save lives. Why waste that time so no other person would have to endure what I have my entire life.

Sam was right, I was kidding myself if I thought I was ever just going to walk away from hunting. It is my life, really all that I've known or wanted to do. There was no way I was going to live out life behind a white picket fence when I knew what was prowling outside of them.

"Alright." was my curt answer, tears drying, "let's partner up."

Sam grinned, the feature of it shadowed - the flickering light just above him had finally gone out with a hiss.

"Thank you, Jo."

I nodded, shortly, the wetness drying on my face. I couldn't look at through the window anymore, couldn't stand to see the man I loved in a new family. I was seriously desperate to get out of here.

"So, your ride or mine?"


	3. Hormonal Harpy

**DISCLAIMER: **This fanfic is for fun, I don't own anything from Supernatural or VHS.

**Note:** If anyone has ever seen VHS, I was inspired by it in this chapter. When I saw the first story play out, I couldn't help but to wonder how it would have gone if Soulless Sam and Jo had been there.

* * *

In between Season 5 and 6

* * *

The music and the voices were loud, the stink including hops, popcorn, peanuts and general human sweat.

Bar number three and the only thing that really changed since our first was the layout, the theme and the age group.

I guess I can't ask for much more from dive bars.

One dead and another missing in three weeks, both having gone on this locally popular three-bar crawl. Both at night, one body half-eaten and fallen from an impossible height near nowhere to fall off of. The other was never seen again. But it was the witness statements that really caught our attention: a giant bird carried off both Vics. Local investigation claim a massive Golden Eagle has perched in the woods beyond town, starting to get a taste of human flesh.

Our experience gave us a different lead; same taste though.

Sam sat next to me, his elbows resting on the wooden island counter in front of us, eyes alert and searching. I leaned against counter myself, Amaretto and Coke in hand; a thin red straw at my lips to suck at it. I convinced him I had needed it for cover, it would look strange, not to drink at a bar, besides, this stakeout was getting tedious.

"Maybe we should circle back to the one with the live band." I suggested over the music, it's video flashing just above us on an annoyingly large mounted TV.

He shrugged, "We haven't looked enough in here."

I growled, "This thing's camouflage is insane."

Sam nodded, eyes still on the people.

"How the hell are we supposed to know?"

"We'll know."

"The only ticks in their disguise is wide eyes, slight vertical crease in her forehead, wing bruises on her back and her crazy-ass dragon feet. Everyone I see is wearing shoes, most covering their back, all the foreheads in here are funky, and just how do we classify 'big eyes'? People watching is fun and all, I just don't want to gank a girl because our perception of them fits."

I hoped my, 'we're looking for it, so we might make ourselves see it when it actually isn't there' argument made him think.

"Well if we do then we know it's not her."

I stared at Sam for a moment, letting his comment sink in.

They had become so common, I had recently given up on digging deeper into why he was acting like a dick all the time.

Was this is way of letting me know (because he would refuse to fucking talk about it) that hell had actually phased him? Was he so desensitized to murder from Hell that it carried over?

That thought made me uneasy.

I decided to drop it, months of working with him and being in his company taught me things were better if I just kept him in check when the action comes around, while we were waiting for it he could say what he liked. It wasn't as if he was every going to reveal how he felt to me.

There was definitely a change in him, a colder voice and direct demeanor than the Sam before hell. Then again, there was a change in Dean too, I remembered. His was more of a dark brooding kind, though. Not this 'only looking out for myself' attitude.

Maybe it was a defense that he hadn't quite worn off yet. He had been caged with two pissed-off angels after all. His was a sickly special kind of hell.

No matter how he changed, though, I felt nowhere safer than hunting beside him.

Glancing to the stairs, hearing familiar voices.

The rowdy group of three men from the bar before had just strode down them, hooting and drunk.

I rolled my eyes, the taller and most attractive of them, dropped a one-liner on me earlier in the night. When Sam stepped back to my side from the bathroom however, he split immediately.

The man was obnoxious and overconfident, it annoyed me how the cliché jock even had the shorter, awkward friend with the clunky glasses that he kept touching self-consciously.

Not a few minutes later he was at the bar, picking up another woman with dark hair, his two friends following diligently behind.

I shifted my attention back around the room, searching for any woman looking the least bit out-of-place, sucking down another generous gulp of my drink.

"You think she would make it easy on us and go barefoot?" I shouted to my partner.

"Maybe. She could be hiding her feet in shoes."

"Hey, t-two of your finest Irish shit." I heard a drunk woman sound loudly from the bar.

"I'm going to make a round." I told him, draining the liquid, and leaving the glass empty on the wood.

Sam nodded his understanding, and took a swig of his beer; posting up.

I started on the far right corner, my back facing the wall and my eyes fixated on women's faces. I followed the wall from there, passing under a stone pillar and booths all opened to the center dance floor.

Directly across from the bar, I saw the three rambunctious men, talking to and equally numbered group of girls. I was too far to hone in on their faces, I would wait to examine them when I got closer.

So far all the women dancing didn't fit the part. Eyes and feet too small, no abnormal forehead creases.

My eyes wandered, lustful to the attractive men. The drink, as it usually acted on me, effected my libido.

Forcing focus, I kept on, bordering the area and passing the stairs, reaching the bar that claimed the north side.

Nada.

Glancing back to the south, I saw the blue-shirted man in Group Obnoxious was laughing to the point of shortening his air supply, lifting some girl into the air and drunkenly spinning on the dance floor. Bulky Glasses was talking to a pale woman perching on the dark booth chair.

Woah.

She was completely visible, even from this distance, directly under a light. Her eyes were big; big enough to be animated. In between her wide set eyes was a faint crease, right down the middle. She was thin, black hair thick. I checked her feet; easy peasy.

How did no one notice that?

I snapped my head to my partner, who was still posted; beer finished.

Cutting through the dance floor, I was held up by Blue shirt getting surrounded by bouncers. Reaching the wooden island, I stood on the open side, directly opposite to Sam.

"I found her."

"Where?"

"There." I turned, and pointed, "What the-"

She wasn't there.

I whirled my eyes to find Mr. Glasses going up the stairs, security herding his Blue-shirt friend out. At his side was the Harpy.

"Stairs!"

I moved, cutting across to the exit.

We were delayed by the mass of people filing into the only exit to watch security rough up some guy. They were already up to the street, I hoped they wouldn't get in a taxi.

When we finally rushed to the street, they were gone.

Damn it.

"Hey excuse me!" I approached some girls who I had seen with the girl in red obviously going home with Mr. Obnoxious himself.

"Excuse me!" I spoke over their drunken giggles, "Your friend in the red, where did she go?"

"Who'sasking?" the blonde's words ran together.

I naturally flipped out a badge, "FBI Special Agent Cronin. The man your friend went home with is a known criminal, now I ask again; where did she go with him?"

The blonde grew suddenly serious, I tucked my badge away.

"I'll call her."

"Do that."

I stayed rooted, knowing she wasn't the most coherent right now. Sam stepped up, acting perfectly stiff as my Bureau partner.

"She's not answering."

"Text her." Sam directed.

The girl fumbled, and he extended his large hand, "We're taking this phone for an investigation."

"But-" he snatched it with deft fingers, and started to text himself, walking in the direction of his car.

"You'll be reimbursed." I said in passing, at Sam's side.

"I sent a text, but I have her number, so we'll hack into her GPS. So, Lisa is our Harpy?" He asked, reading off the contact name.

"No, she's going home with a guy who was with Glasses all night on the crawl."

"Glasses is...?"

"The guy the Harpy was leaving with."

"Alright."

We got into his Dodge Charger, and he handed me the phone while pulling out his tablet to begin the hacking and tracking. I couldn't help but feel cool; my partnership with Sam was synced. He never questioned what I saw as my mother tended to do, nor did he ignore me because I had less experience than he, like Dean.

* * *

We found her location.

The Challenger rumbled up to the hotel, stopping abruptly into an empty space outside.

We stepped out, our weapons hidden, getting curious looks from the men standing by their white pick-up a couple of spaces over.

"Which room?"

"GPS isn't that accurate."

"The staff?"

"Worth a try."

We headed to the dingy lobby with two women and painted yellow walls.

A man suddenly burst into sight, slicked with blood and in his boxers, screaming repeatedly, "PLEASE LET ME IN!"

Sam and I sprung into action; he popped the trunk, I rushed to Glasses, who was now running towards the tuckers.

"OH, GOD! HELP ME-"

"HEY!" I shouted at him, before the Harpy stepped into view just by the office door.

There was a large rift splitting down from tip of her nose to top of her head: a second sharply bone-ridged vertical mouth. As if her fanged rows of teeth in her first mouth weren't enough. She was naked, and soiled in blood.

I drew my Beretta, and fired into her chest.

She roared.

I positioned myself in front of her intended snatchee (Glasses) and fired again to her second mouth, between the eyes.

She flinched harshly, and screamed, curdling my blood. The harpy, pissed, was sprinting for me now, fleshy wings extending from her back as she did.

"Fuuuck." I hummed as fired again, but she still came, "SAM!"

She leapt, talons extended, and gripped my shoulder, her wings gaining air beneath them.

They dug into my left shoulder, hooking the meat there. I shouted and was abruptly in the air, my legs kicking by instinct. Glasses was in grasped by her left claws and held onto by both her arms while her wings did the work.

They beat once, twice, thr-

She let another shrill scream overtake the air as a thick-ass arrow sunk and caught on her wing. The arrow had a thicker rope attached, and Sam was on the other end, having tied it to the car and was now re-loading the large cross-bow.

We were already loosing altitude, the weight of both me and Glasses was wearing on her new injury and leash.

Her claws released me.

I fell, terrified to hit the concrete. Instead, I crashed down into the metal hood of a car, denting it with my body slightly.

Pain overwhelmed me, but I blinked back those tears and choked down the cough to aim up and fire again into the Harpy. She screeched again, dropping Glasses and stopping her flight altogether.

Her feet now on the pavement, Sam started at her with a machete.

I scooted down the car stiffly, making eye contact with the trucker, who had rushed to Glasses's side after he fell.

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

They obeyed immediately, and I got myself back on the ground.

I couldn't get a shot off with out the risk of hitting Sam, so I ran to the car, and grabbed my machete.

When I turned to the fight Sam had been thrown to the white truck, and the Harpy was chewing through her leash.

I ran, machete raised to chop.

She kicked me to the floor with incredible force, and ran down a hall studded with hotel room doors.

I got up, seeing Sam had also gotten to his feet and was now sprinting after her.

I did the same.

She took a wrong turn and dead-ended herself at an ice machine and vending machines.

I charged in, while Sam had faced off.

She hissed and I swung, she ducked and I was caught vulnerable.

The harpy slammed me into a popcorn wall, both sets of teeth flashing to my face.

From behind I saw Sam rear his machete back like a bat, glinting in the florescent lights.

His look told me to duck, I did, compressing my head as far down as I could while her clawed hand was breaking skin on my sternum.

The action followed through, showering my backside with blood Harpy blood, and the machete suck to the wall just above me. The head dropped and rolled at my feet.

Lovely.

I straightened, breathing heavy, and took a moment to internally celebrate the hunt's finality.

Sam stood over it's corpse, opposite to me.

I hated how much I wanted him right then.

Both of us had heavy lungs and a large need for air from the fight.

I felt somewhat light headed, my back against the dirty hotel hallway wall.

He stepped over the dead Harpy, directly to place himself in front of me.

Sam's eyes left mine for a tense lingering look at my body.

Fuck.

I had meant to get laid so this situation wouldn't happen, but we had been so busy, researching this Harpy. Neither of us having faced one before, it took up all of our time here.

And hard work made me in need of a certain release…I never did feel it's calling more than after a hunt.

Maybe it was the close brushes with death that gave me the thrill.

I found myself also eyeing his thighs, long and lithe and strong, his pants fit and halfway pitched. It drew a tongue and my teeth out over my bottom lip, feeling them plumpen. At his torso I heaved in a breath and held it, as if afraid to breath in his face.

Sam was suddenly very close, I realized, his tall body bent over my short form.

I gulped and cleared my throat, small protests of instinct. But man, did my body feel that thick air between our middles.

"Sam…" I spoke his name, realizing that I had made a mistake, sexual partners liked to hear their name from the intended.

No. Fuck, I can't do this…But I still I didn't move when Sam dove right into the pool without testing the water first.

I felt his dick in the crease of my right hip, my body tingled when his hand possessed the back of my neck, the other had hauled me up holding me on his underside arm, and applying pressure on my front to keep me there.

His lips didn't crash into mine until he pulled my limp neck into it, after my gasp of surprise. He was warm, his lips aggressive, and his dick hardening.

For a hot minute it was delicious.

Then the loathing feeling returned.

Pushed his chest back, heel of my hand firm, "Sam, we can't."

"Sure we can." but he did not move to kiss me again.

"I don't think we should get caught up in the-uh-energies bouncing around after a kill."

He grinned smugly, "Why not? Obviously there is a desire, so why don't we just act on it?"

"There's conflict here, alright?"

"What, my brother?"

I stiffened, "Let go of me."

Sam let out a light chuckle, "Jo, he's living with Lisa and her _son_. You shouldn't wait around for him."

I fell out of his hold, my boots touching the asphalt again. Ducking under his tall body to march away, determined not to give into my hyper libido.

"Jo, its just sex!" He followed me, wrenching his machete from the wall and stashing it in the sheath strapped to his back, "Why can't we just give each other some release?"

I bent over to grab my machete.

Sheathing it across my back, I turned to Sam again, and a shock of tingles pooled themselves over me when I turned into his lips, his hands grasping my hair, firmly tugging there to deepen the kiss.

My eyes rolled quickly closed and my drive burst forward, as aggressive as he. It felt so wonderful, so inebriating. We sucked, we nipped, we enveloped each others lips, working some long-awaited exercise.

When he hoisted me up I hardly noticed all other sensation besides that of his hardened crotch, he began to kiss and bite my neck and downward, reaching the top of my breasts and earning an arch to my back.

My libido spoke softly to me; technically, I've already had sex with him.

My lips stopped moving against his at the memory, it flashed unpleasantly and unwillingly to mind.

I jerked away, pressing my spine completely into the wall behind me.

Sam wasn't deterred, his mouth back on my neck as I squirmed in his hold again, suddenly acutely aware.

"What is it now?" Sam's hot breath spoke over moist areas he had kissed.

"We have to get out of here." That was also true, "The witnesses would have called the police by now."

He dropped me, "Right."

At a hotel far away from the one we beheaded the Harpy at, we sauntered in, tired from the job.

"I'm going to take a shower, get the blood out of my hair."

Sam smiled devilishly, "May I join?"

My breath caught, so tempted to just let it happen, my body was aching for it...though my mind keeps telling me no. I had to trust that instinct.

"I think we should try and, uh, keep sex out of our partnership."

He looked at me and held the intensity that passed between us.

It flashed me back, in that one instant, to Duluth again, the way Meg had looked at me through his eyes. My mind and body tensed up, as if preparing for Sam to force himself of me.

Instead, Sam dropped the eye contact and chuckled, "I don't get why you're so hard on yourself Jo."

I, in turn, dropped my defenses with an exhale, though the wariness still remained, "Me neither."

"Alright. Whenever you change your mind..."

"You'll be right here."

He offered a half-smile, "Right."

"Right."


	4. Burn Out the Day

**Disclaimer: **Purely fanfiction, these characters and storyline and some dialogue belongs to the writers and creators of _Supernatural_.

**Note: **So my inspiration is jumping around a lot when it comes to Jo's character. Recently, I wanted to write a younger Jo, one who was almost completely different from the years older version with Soulless Sam, but don't worry I have much planned for that Jo yet to come.

* * *

Season 2

* * *

My phone was vibrating annoyingly on the dash.

Flickering my eyes away from the road momentarily, I snatched it and checked the little screen to see who was calling.

_**Deano **_

Holy shit.

The Winchester was actually calling me.

I should expect for him not to call me more often, maybe then he would defy that. Just as I accepted that he really wasn't going to, he does. What an ass, always going against my predictions.

My hands loosened on the wheel and the car dipped slightly over the lane.

Woah, way to be unsafe, Jo.

I pulled the car over to gravel, the phone still vibrating in ring.

Parked, I flipped the phone open, and answered, a small smile creeping uncontrollably to my lips.

"Well hey there, stranger."

"Jo?" His voice sounded strangely relieved.

"Where are you?" he demanded, his tone dropped my smile immediately.

"Kansas, what's going on?"

"Jo...you, uh, you better get to the Roadhouse."

The body dunked in ice, "Dean, what's happened? Is my Mom alright?"

"We're...we're not sure."

"Ash?"

The other end produced no sound other than wind.

"Jo..."

My throat caught, sudden fearful tears springing, "Give me a couple of hours, I'll be there."

I snapped the phone shut, slammed the parking break down and spun around, driving down the road with a new ferocity.

* * *

_3 and 1/2 hours later..._

The smell of burnt wood was what came to me first: the fire was smoldering. Another scent latched to the burning one, but it wasn't wood...flesh.

My stomach clenched.

My blue Honda Civic peeled around the green leaf bush marking the corner, and skidded to a park next to the Impala. Dean seemed to be recovering from something.

I jumped out, leaving the door ajar and the car beeped it's protest.

"Jo..."

Bobby's voice faded, distant compared to the soft crackling of wood. The forward of my boot gained quick traction against the gravel, and I was sprinting to the remnants of my home.

"Jo!" Dean called this time.

Ignoring them I flew to the rising wisps of smoke.

I had to find them, they were here, somewhere in the rubble. I had to save them, they needed me.

Crunching sets of boots followed behind, and Bobby's hand gently grabbed my arms, "Jo, you don't need to see that."

I twisted to face him, and wretched my limbs from his reach, incoherently sobbing.

Spinning back, I was hardly deterred from the Roadhouse ashes.

That was the bar, Ash's room just over there...

Tears dropping readily, my vision blurred and was suddenly whirled away from my dead, smoldering home. A set of burly arms had arrested me, clamping around my middle and were lifting my feet off the ground with a scuffle of gravel and dirt.

"MOM! ASH! LET ME GO." I struggled; squirming, kicking, and shouting at him, all while sucking down heaps of crying breaths.

I screamed words incomprehensible.

"Hey," Dean's voice firmed in my ear.

I did not give up my panic to fight out of his hold. He held me tight against his front, gripping me so hard it hurt, forcing me to look the blue and black Impala just in front of us instead of searching for my family.

"HEY!" he shouted over my distraught ramblings of release, his arms jolting my body in a wakening shake.

I stopped, abruptly dead weight as the sobbing quietly raked my body.

Dean held me still.

"I'm so sorry Jo." He whispered, breath moving my hair, "I'm so sorry. Ash knew something and Yellow-eyes did this to stop him from telling us."

The ripping in my chest refused to stop, and I let it all crash down on me, uncaring.

Ash. I had just seen him, not two weeks ago, and my mother...I visited for my birthday.

That slammed a new wall of bricks to the heart, and tears afresh.

"Listen," he turned me to face him, quickly, his palms closing around my face, thumbs light on my cheeks, the rest of his fingers rough, "Listen to me."

He forced his green irises on me, voice slightly soothing.

"I know this is terrible, but the evil that did this is still out there, and if we don't go now we might not make it in time to stop him. We need to go, and you're coming with us, yeah?"

I nodded my head in his hands, unable to secure words from my constricted throat.

"Alright, let's go." He took my hand and dragged me away from the burned.

Bobby, who had been busy throwing my weapons bag and backpack into Impala's back seat, took my shoulders then, in a short, sad and meaningful hug. I returned it, weakly.

"Your Mom wasn't in there, Jo. She could be alive, and if she is we'll find her, I promise."

He released me, and jumped into the Impala.

How could they be so detached, still so focused on the job?

I opened the back door, numb, and it groaned in response. Clicking the door shut behind me, I curled my knees into my chest, holding them there as if to hold in the shot to my heart.

My eyes stared unblinking to the wreck that was once my home as Dean peeled away by Bobby's instruction.

This couldn't be real.

* * *

By the time Dean pulled up to a mess of shrubbery warding off vehicles, my eyes held no more tears, my cheeks tightened by the surplus salt that dried there.

I had isolated myself from the two men in the front seat, remaining silent no matter how many questions they aimed for me the entire stretch of the road to wherever the hell we were. I was sure they tried to fill me in on what was happening too. Wether they did or they didn't; I wasn't listening. It was as if they weren't really even there.

I didn't care.

The numbness of my body had infected my mind, leaving it simply tasked.

This wasn't real, but I will kill the demon who caused it.

Maybe this was what it felt like to be a Winchester.

I stepped out into the night, with the two, staring where the headlights shone.

"Well, it looks like the rest of the way is on foot."

I was already turned and zipping open my weapons bag as Dean and Bobby stocked up from the trunk.

"We're dealing with Demons here," Dean spoke loudly to reach my ears, "Stick to salt rounds, shot guns, and iron."

He was saying it for me, I knew, and I felt a sudden flash of anger overwhelm. I was less experienced than he, but I did know what to bring to a demon fight.

I said nothing, though, keeping my silence.

My father's iron-hilted knife strapped to my thigh, Ka-bar companion blade on its opposite (just in case), an Ithaca sawn-off in my hands and salt rounds packed neatly into a black fanny pack; I was set.

I shut the door and looked to the guys for direction.

Bobby handed me a flashlight, trying to meet my eyes.

I avoided that, he would only make me remember that I cared.

Dean loaded and cocked his shot-gun, "Let's go."

We hurried into the bushes, which soon turned into a dirt path, guns drawn at the darkness, waiting for anything to pop out.

"SAM!"

Dean started calling.

So Sam was here, with demons.

Funny how the younger always associated with them when I encountered him.

The memory of Duluth gave more anger to the entire demon population. Rape me, and murder my brother?

I was going to fucking kill them all.

"SAM!"

We rounded the corner of a wooden building on our right, to another, more compacted dirt road.

There, in the stark light, a tall form walked ahead of us, nursing a shoulder.

"Sam."

"Dean."

Suddenly, another man that had been lying in the mud sprung up- dirtied blade expertly held in hand.

He lunged at Sam's back.

"SAM, LOOK OUT!"

The younger brother's face contorted as the blade sunk deep.

We broke into a run.

"NO!"

Dean stopped to catch Sam, Bobby and I sprinted on, after the stabber.

I hoped he was a demon.

"JO!" Bobby yelled, and I automatically stopped, realizing he wasn't at my stride anymore.

He was paces behind me, and I cursed him for not continuing my hunt. I was itching to kill.

"Head back, they need us."

I followed his instruction with action; turning back and running to the brothers.

* * *

Sam was dead.

Dean just stood in the threshold, staring at the body laying inside on a dampened blue spring mattress.

I sat in one of the chairs, picking my nails with my knife, drawing blood under some nail beds. It wasn't accidental, but neither was it purposeful.

I had tried to console him, to connect in the losses we both received today, but he had no words for me. I didn't have much for him either.

Our brothers were dead. What was there to say?

So we sat in silence.

When Bobby returned and brought up burial, Dean's anger was explosive.

Watching the stages progress as someone who was one step ahead was terrible. I felt that anger, I knew how he felt; mine was just implosive, harder to detect, unlike his obvious upset.

If only I had been at the Roadhouse, I would have stopped it. Or burned down with them.

Either was better than this outcome.

When Bobby left, I went too.

Dean was never one to accept comfort and emotional aid.

I climbed into Bobby's truck, knees tucked to my chest again.

He didn't start the engine.

"Jo, you doin' alright?"

I turned to him, letting my knees fall to proper seating arrangement.

Clearing my throat, I chose to speak for the first time in hours, "No."

It came out a whisper, but Bobby heard.

"I know. I'm so sorry kiddo."

It was as if speaking had brought back the flood, the beginnings of it spilled over my lower lashes, streaking my cheeks, "I just-"

I wiped the first two away, and sniffed the mucus back up, wishing they would just let me talk, "If I hadn't left them - if I had been there with them - I would've saved them, Bobby. I-"

The dam broke down, and Bobby slid over the seat, taking my streams into his shoulder. His hand rubbing my back in compassion.

"No, no, Jo. If you were in there, we would have said good-bye to one more person today. You think we could have handled that?"

I choked into his flannel, "Bobby, I- I..."

"Don't you blame yourself for one minute, you understand? Don't you do that."

By the time the tears were mostly spent, I found my eye-lids heavy, and my body limp.

Bobby slid me so that I was still lying on his shoulder while he turned the engine over and drove off on the dark road, which faded from my memory.

* * *

**Note: **I always wondered why they didn't call Jo or even mention her when they found the Roadhouse burnt down! I think that would be something even Dean would call her about, her (surrogate) brother was DEAD extra crispy, and her mom MIA. Realistically, they would have called her.


	5. Erased

**DISCLAIMER: **I am not making any money from this, this is purely some fiction I need to get out of my head.

* * *

Season 6

* * *

"Excuse me, you did what?"

I was aware of how bitchy my voice sounded, but he deserved every inflection.

Dean's face stared hard back at me, blinked once and took a heavy breath to explain, "Castiel-"

He cleared his throat, having some trouble, "He-uh-erased me from their memories, they won't...they don't remember me."

There was a moment to let it hang overhead, Bobby averted his eyes, Sam's jaw set, and I glared daggers.

If no one else would say it, I sure as hell would.

"You selfish jackass." I said with a serious laugh, shaking my blonde head, "I can't believe you."

"Excuse me?" his tone edged.

"Do you really think that this will fix anything?"

Rhetorical; I slid off the table, boots and body pointed right at him, completely intending confrontation.

"Crowley still knows you care about them, so why don't you try to explain to me why _you_ think that their non-memory will somehow protect them?"

"They'll be safe." he said with firm certainty.

I scoffed loudly.

"What's your problem Jo?"

Then I chuckled sharply, "My problem isn't what this is about, its yours, Dean."

He opened his mouth for an acid retort when I cut him off, ranting.

"Your problem is leaving behind everyone you love that isn't your brother, cause God knows you have risked everything for him before. You really can't keep doing this, you can't just abandon these people!"

"I'm not, I'm protecting them!"

"Again, how exactly are you accomplishing that?" I spat back.

"As long as they are close to me they will continue to be targets." he growled.

"So now they don't have you to safeguard them, and Crowley still knows who they are and that you still care about them-" my lips made a tsking sound, "Yeah, that really spells out safety."

"This was the best thing for them," he sounded through grit teeth, "You of all people should understand how many people in our _family _gets caught in the crossfire."

I glared, but ignored his last biting statement. I had to be careful with this subject, he still had no idea about the deal I made with Crowley, how he had broken it so easily when Dean was starting to rebel.

I had no intention him ever finding out about it.

I was still so angry at the fact I let the demon trick me into keeping me on his dime, for absolutely nothing. I was angry at the fact Dean just erased them so easily, after I gave up my morals and instinct for them unharmed, alive and with _him_.

I swallowed those feelings down, deciding to come at this from a different angle to make him understand.

"They loved you, Dean, do you really think Lisa would have wanted this? You were an important person in their lives, you have to know you meant something to them!"

"Don't think I don't know that, Jo. I am keeping them away from me, because this is exactly what will keep happening to them, just like anyone else who I let in my family. Hell, if I had my way I would never leave them, I never wanted to."

"Well lucky them!" I shouted back acidly, before I could control my blurt.

His lips flicked out over his lips in regression, I knew he realized he had struck a nerve from our past.

Fuck it, it was already out, might as well start it up again. Letting it all flow through the gates, my tone darkly slow and bitter.

"You don't understand what its like Dean, because you are always the one who does the leaving. And they may not remember you, but they will _feel_ your absence, they will _dream_ about you, like I did."

My voice rose, still petulant, "You meant something to them and you meant something me, but you obviously and repeatedly don't care about how the people who love_ you_ may feel."

I noted his fingers folded up into his palms at each word, eyes unblinking and tense.

"You just ditch it and run when you see fit, without consulting anyone because _you_ have some narcissistic sense that _you_ know what's best for _us_, that _you_ know what is safest for_ us_. You never even left any other option but your own!"

"Why does it even matter to you?" Dean snarled back, lips moving violently, "I thought you were over it, remember? You know what I'm thinking? I think you're mad at yourself because you wanted it to be this way, for them to be out of the way for you to move back in. So stop taking your anger at yourself out on me Jo."

Dangerously, I glowered at him as his last statement hung painfully in the air. I felt the sting of it ball up my own fists. He met my black look, ferocity deteriorating as mine intensified.

It happened fast, and without thought.

Swiftly, I closed the distance between us-my fist hit the flesh of his face; he stumbled backward holding his new injury.

I knew he had worse before, but the look in his eyes betrayed more hurt in sentiment than from body.

My eyes fixated on him; rancorous, watching as the splash of blood drip over his fingers. When his green flickered up to brown, I spun around, blonde curls whirling at my back.

Marching right past startled Bobby and Sam, I punched the door open, and left.

* * *

_As her figure left through the door frame, Dean knew he had made a mistake._

_"Jo, wait!" he stepped after her, dropping his hands from his face, letting the blood slide free. _

_"Jo, I-" he shouted as he passed the door, holding it open for his body and stopped at its threshold._

_"Joanna!"_

_He shouted, hoping she would hear-_

_But it was too late, she was already past the last door, and now outside. She kept on marching until she threw herself into her maroon Buick, turning it over and screeching off into the night; tail lights blurring._

_Dean watched her, frustration building inside himself. After a long moment he glanced at Sam and Bobby, almost having forgotten they were there._

_"Boy, she really popped you one." Bobby remarked as the blood fell off his chin. _

_Dean wiped it with his sleeve; face grim._


	6. Uncle Sam Wants You

Season 6

* * *

**Lansing, Michigan**

_Campbell Compound _

If he followed me out, my fist might turn him around again.

He was adamant, of course, and I hear his boots hit the door before it slammed and he had to open it again. He was close behind. Damn the Campbell and Winchester long legs, they took my stride two to one. Then again, I weighted down by my clothes-filled backpack and a heavy-ass weapons bag slung round my right shoulder.

I curb the violent impulse of punching, remembering I am working on my quick resolve to anger.

Instead I kept my stride, the chilled outside wind blowing my hair back with attitude. I grip the strap of my backpack in my right palm, clipping my keys off jean loops smoothly with my left.

Buick was in my immediate sight.

"Don't leave." His voice was gruff, commanding, over the crunching of our boots on chunks of gravel.

I snorted, pushing the key into the lock and twisting open the trunk. Lifting the forest green rectangular bag from around my body, I deposited it into the car with some emotional force.

"Orders from you aren't welcome anymore."

I slammed the hood down.

"He promised me Mary!"

"Don't even TRY to give me that Campbell-Winchester family _bullshit_." I snarled, deadly still and focused on him, "I am beyond sick of it. You men just can't keep lying to people who are _supposed_ to be your "family" to make fucking deals with demons. It sucks that people you care about have died, but you can't keep BRINGING THEM BACK from the DEAD just because you think you're SPECIAL."

His Timberlands crunched closer to me, "Is it me that you're really angry with, Jo?"

Fuck this.

I stared at him, incredulously livid.

I knew he was referring to my recent reconnection with Dean. Because Samuel's pig-headed ideal of women didn't leave the option that I could think and feel things outside of my former relationship. Or whatever the fuck it was.

Still, it wasn't about that, and to have him say that to my face whitened my knuckles. How dare he fucking try to belittle my emotions about his hustling monsters deal with Crowley.

"Yes, _Samuel_. I am very angry with you, _Samuel_. You've lied to me repeatedly, _Samuel_. You're helping the King of Hell get his hands on an unlimited amount of souls in exchange for your dead daughter, _Samuel_."

I heaved in a breath after straining my lungs to get all of it out.

He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, peppered chin jutting out defiantly.

"I mean, did you even stop and think about that one? You want to bring back your dead daughter, who has been dead for years, to what? Watch as Crowley becomes un-huntable from all the powers he's earned by swallowing souls whole?"

I traveled down the length of my maroon Buick as I spoke, "You want her to be there when he comes after her sons and kills them with a snap of his fucking fingers? 'Cause you know Crowley would never let them live after witnessing their fucked up determination for hunting the Big Bads."

I opened the driver door, resting my arms on the hood and ajar door, still facing him coldly, "How much you want to bet; he'll eat _your_ souls after you find Purgatory for him? Maybe that's how he's spun it; you'll have Mary, but you'll both be dead."

He had nothing to follow after my rant. I slammed him with some hard reality, but still his face seemed disillusioned, as if what I was saying could _never_ happen to him.

I moved to sit on the vintage plush seat thinking if every man I ever cared about could just stop being so narcissistic that would be just so wonderful.

"Joanna."

The door shut after my body, and I glared at him from the open window, fingers ready to turn the key over.

He stood there, still, as if his silence were an apology all its own.

Starting afresh with venom in my words, I refused to let his grandfather expression win me over.

"I would have died fighting with you, you know. I thought I was a part of something good here, working with you, feeling like a part off this fucked family. But I won't work for the King of Hell, or trust anyone else who does, no matter how much I care about them."

I decided to leave the wound we were creating stinging, feeling a dark pleasure from his possible guilt.

"We're hunters, _Campbell_. When did you switch sides?"

Before he could speak without background I turned the engine over, flooding his voice of sudden protest.

He had his chance to defend himself, and he couldn't. Now he can eat my fucking smog.

In the rear-view, I look one look back to Samuel watching my car drive with a morbid expression.

* * *

I was on the road for thirty minutes, still seething, when something came into view on the road ahead.

A man dressed in a black suit; crimson silk tie smoldering under headlights.

That dark pleasure returned with an exhale, and I gave the pedal more thrust. Speeding toward him, I relished in pretending that I could actually hit him.

Just before impact, of course, he was gone.

I screeched to a halt, looking in the mirrors to find him standing there, sly smile wide and taunting.

Snarling, I set it for reverse, and stepped on the pedal; hard. The car jolted to a stop with a snap of his fingers, and I whiplashed against the headrest.

Back of my skull aching, I pushed open the door, stiffly and stepped out, legs unstable and stiff.

"You better not have ruined my car."

He only smiled as I walked down the length of the Buick over to him, dragging the Ithaca by my side.

The red headlights cascaded on his person appropriately.

"Where do you think you're going, love?"

"Away."

I stood in front of Buick as if to protect it from him, blinking the pain out of focus while holding the sawn-off for his chest. A salt-round fired from it wouldn't do much to the Demon King, but it would keep him at a distance.

If only I had Sam's knife, I could end it all right now.

"I'm not doing your dirty work anymore, now that I know that it is."

"That just won't do." he remarked, disapprovingly.

"Well you'll have to make it." I gave him a closed-lipped smile with an aggressive tilt of my blonde head.

He shrugged his broad, black, coated shoulders, "I won't."

I scoffed.

I shouldn't have gotten out, or stopped for that matter. Why did I?

Oh, right, because all I want is to wail on something until my anger dissipated. I realized too late I chose the wrong playmate.

I turned away from him, returning to my car-

He appeared in front of me.

Immediately I re-aimed the shot-gun with a huff.

"See," he ignored the weapon, "I need all available Hunters on this; numbers equals progress, progress equals results, you get the big picture."

He looked at me in a way that make me want to vomit.

"And you, my dear, have been racking in those curious kills and captures. You're right up there with Sammy."

"Fuck off," I smiled; faked, as I spat it, "you have nothing to keep me on your payroll."

Crowley snapped a picture of Dean to his fingertips, tone threatening, "Here is your payment then, pet. You keep on bringing in those nasty monsters for me, and I won't kill him."

He wagged the photograph in front of me.

"Yeah, okay," I scoffed agin, "like you would really waste Dean Winchester."

He shrugged nonchalantly, "He is a bit rusty when it comes to the job, he's a prick in my arse anyways, might as well just be rid of the problem."

My smile didn't falter, "No way, you need him, just like you need me, nice try. Next time try opening with something that doesn't void the offer you're trying to make. But-" I lifted my eye-brows and lowered the gun, playing at lust, "I didn't know you were so fond of me, makes a girl feel all kinds of special."

We stared each other down for a moment.

"I bet you are very good at poker."

Ruefully, my lips spread further on my face, "Bet your bottom dollar."

He matched my smile, "Tell you what then, love-"

Stepping forward, I could smell his breath, musky and minted, "Keep working for me, and I won't go after Dean's little happy family."

What? Where the fuck was he taking this?

"Why should I care?" I licked lips, "If you know mine and Dean's history-"

"Oh I do, and I know you still have those little schoolgirl pangs for him." He cut in smartly, "I know that when Sammy boy fell into that flamed pit, Deano promised to live a pathetic little normal life...with you."

"Stalker, much?" I growled, feeling very uncertain with this new direction.

"Winchester drama is the best to tune into. I keep my tabs, love." He stared down at me, smiling through those dark brown eyes, "And in keeping them I learned that when the time came to settle, he chose little miss normal and her son over you."

I was shaking now; murderous and sorrowful from the rush of suppressed emotional memory. He had completely turned this conversation to what I never expected, which I'm sure was just what he wanted.

"Tell me, love-" he took another step, so close that I could smell the smoke from the body he rode, "-did he tell you? Did he even say goodbye?"

Waiting a few moments to push back the memories and contain myself, I glared daggers back up at him. I had to regain control, show his that I didn't actually care, no matter how much I truthfully did.

"This is you bargaining for their lives?"

"No, this is me reminding you how pathetic you are Miss I'msotoughnow. I'm reminding you that I will always have something on you, something to make you do whatever I want."

I opened my mouth for an acidic retort - his snap interrupted.

Abruptly, we were outside of a house, standing on the street adjacent.

Both street and house spread dark goose bumps through my body.

Fuck.

Crowley leaned in from behind me, lips at my ear.

"Have a look-" he extended his arm to point through the living room window.

I saw my distant reflection through a glass window, then focused my eyes beyond it, knowing who he wanted me to see.

There Lisa and Ben sat: watching a movie together with popcorn, cuddled up and cozy on the couch, completely unaware of the supernatural outside under the street lamp.

Inhaling sharply when I whispered into my ear, I stood transfixed. It was as if I had been transported to that day, nearly a year ago, when I found him here.

"You still have that feeling for Dean, and I know you would hate to see the ones he loved ripped away from him, I know that a good girl like you would hate to see innocent people sacrificed."

"Fuck you." I gulped, "I still won't help you."

"Really?" He stepped just beside me, tone unconvinced, "Just think if I just sent my goons in there-"

Another snap and demons were outside the door-

My heartbeat rattled my chest.

"and Dean were to come home to their dead bodies-"

I moved to run, to save them from the attack-but Crowley's telekinesis restricted me from moving any further.

I turned to fire on him.

The shot went off, buzzing in my ears, but he was gone.

"That's not part of the game, love." He sounded from behind me.

I whirled again, but his magic wrenched the gun out of my hands just as the demons in the distance behind him pulled open the house door.

"There's only one way to save them."

"FINE!"

"What was that love?" he said smugly.

His grip loosened and I stepped close to him suddenly, stiff and livid.

"It's a deal. I will keep hunting for you if you do not harm Lisa and Ben in any way."

Looking deep into my eyes as if to find out how much I meant it, he waited for a moment. Begrudged, but desperate I held his gaze; he had to see that I was telling the truth.

Why the fuck was I doing this?

He snapped for a third time.

The demons had disappeared, just as Lisa, a gun (one of Dean's) unnaturally in her hand, cautiously went to the door to see no one there.

"Well isn't this wonderful." He grinned.

I glowered, feeling homicidal, beaten and hypocritical.

Samuel was going to give me a mouthful when I showed up back in my bunk.

"And all deals, my sweet come with a kiss."

From under my lashes I seethed up to his eyes, at first refusing to move.

"It won't be sealed without one, Joa-."

I grasped the back of his head and pulled my lips to his before he could finish me name, eyes shut tightly.

Jerking away after a few seconds, I placed distance between us, disgusted.

Vaguely, I realized we were back on the road, Buick right beside me again.

He smiled wide, and licked his lips.

"I must say, business with you is the best I've had in some time."

Unresponsive and nauseous, I turned on my heel to get in Buick for comfort.

"Thank you for that, love!"

I flipped him off as I opened the door, threw myself in, and started the engine with a rumble.

I could still hear him laughing as I tore into a vicious turn, tires now rolling back from where I came.

* * *

**Note: **If you've read my other story _Looking Glass_, you might recognize this from Chapter 4. I decided to go back and flesh it out, from Jo's direct point of view instead of from an observer like how I've constructed that story. This collective is kinda turning out like a prequel haha. I've changed a few details, and made it better I think.


	7. 50 Percent More Chicken

**Note:** I am really loving writing Jo in this time period with Soulless Sam. It's so raw and gruesome, and Jo is just so badass and sassy! I'll be switching to a different, younger Jo soon, but I just couldn't stop my fingers from this one!

* * *

In between S.5 and S.6

* * *

I sprinted.

My field boots thumped rapidly on the white-streaked pavement passing under them.

Why the fuck did I leave my machete?

If one of them caught up too close, it was reassuring to know I had the buffalo horn-handle Damascus Bowie knife strapped to my thigh. Cutting through their necks with it, though, would be slower work than the longer sword I wanted in hand facing them.

Messier too; I just washed the blood and monster chunks from these clothes.

The five vamps behind me would not allow that kind of beheading time from an eight inch blade.

So I stuck to the flight response.

I cursed past-me for challenging myself to this.

They were close, I didn't need to turn my head to check on their distance. My ears let me know exactly how on my ass they were.

Just keep running, just get there, just get them there.

I can see the door, just on the side of the building -

"Shiiit."

Seeing four more vamps forming a tight advancing line right where I was running, I skid quickly to the side and took a panicked route, all the way around the fucking building.

Back-door would have to do.

Cool.

I hope Sam is ready.

The ratio just dropped to an unpredicted and unsafe scale. We were expecting the five, but these three would be sure to throw us a bigger challenge than we intended for ourselves.

Sam will be thrilled.

As I ran around, it was hard to deny the excitement getting to me for the fight ahead too.

Reaching the door, I swung it open.

Sam had clocked my every movement, apparently, and was already at the door when I opened it.

I saw the flash of metal; I ducked and rolled.

Sam sprung the trap with a thrum, and a sharp wire pulled taut. It clothes-lined two oncoming and unsuspecting vamps, cutting clean through their necks.

I heard the blood gush and the heads fall to the ground behind me.

Seven left.

Somersaulting to my feet, and grabbed my machete from where I left it earlier; leaned against the pool table.

I was the blonde bait that lead the monsters into a trap-set bar. Why our work commonly lead us to dusty, old abandoned bars, I would never understand the supernatural appeal.

Eyes snapping to the hanging rope line by the other side of the door; I needed to get to it. Spring the next trap.

My ears picked up on two more entering behind, ducking under the sharp wire, and on to us.

I ran, feet feeling as if they weren't my own, and lunged my hand out for the thick rope - but a she-vamp with luxurious black hair stepped in my way.

She ran at me, ferociously, snarling and I avoided her quickly, jumping on the pool table. I gripped both hands around the hilt and brought it down like a bat to the back of her neck.

It cut clean through bone, the head rolling to the floor, spraying blood in circles with it.

Six.

I leapt off, forgetting the rope that would send deadman's blood raining down on them and re-focused to helping an overwhelmed Sam.

I sent a powerful kick to the next vamp filling into the abandoned bar. He stumbled to the door, but was quickly replaced by another who slammed my head with a fist.

My sight whipped to my partner's corner; Sam had beheaded his opponent, and was on to dodging three at once.

Five more.

I raised the machete - he grabbed my wrist; hard.

I grunted in pain, he ripped the long blade from me, it clattered to the floor over by the second pool table.

Fuck me.

I ducked as he swung at me again, stepping carefully backward between the two pool tables, the vamp I kicked to the door was back, clocking me. The two closed in the isle as I stepped back, light swinging to and fro overhead.

Twice the fun.

My eyes flickered as the light did, drawing my Damascus blade and watching my two new friends come toward me.

Thick red liquid splashed heavily to the floor, and a vamp screamed in agony, drenched in deadman's blood while the other, I could see behind my friends, had dived out-of-the-way.

Sam had sprung the second trap.

Four more that posed a real threat.

I heard two more footsteps shuffle across the dirty floor, from the other door behind me, but my focus was too zoomed on these two.

I lunged and slashed to the one on the right first; he had darker brown hair. He moved away, quicker than I, and his partner grabbed me and flung me over the table, my back stretching uncomfortably on it.

Lighter brunette hair had his hands on my throat.

I slashed at his wrist with my blade, and he withdrew with a hiss.

Darkhair rejoined, and I sent a kick with both legs to his stomach. He fell back into the second table, back crunching loudly, and Lighthair was on me again, holding down my arms this time to the rough green surface of the table.

Damn it.

I struggled, but his supernatural strength won over my human one.

Without a snide remark his fangs were out, and were coming closer to my skin.

Before I knew it Lighthair's blood sprinkled over my face, I quickly squeezed all orifices tight to avoid the thick liquid's entry. His grip loosed and his head banged to the table beside mine.

Yum.

Using his falling body I kicked for momentum and rolled backward over myself, knees meeting the other side of the table to look at my savior - who was surprisingly not Sam.

He was blonde, light stubble across his chin and upper lip. His eyes gray.

Receiving my thankful yet questioning look, he nodded, dripping blade of his own gripped in a fighting stance. He turned and began his fight with the weakened and wet she-vamp not far off.

In a quick glance around the room, there were four more that needed to lose their heads; one she-vamp fending off Blondeguy, Sam's big vamp, another inhuman woman circling an older man with a machete, and Darkhair included.

How did we get evenly matched?

I didn't matter; Darkhair was still clocking me.

I spotted my fallen machete just behind the pool table Darkhair leaned against.

I jumped to the other table, brandishing my blade across his face on my way. He roared when the sharpness left a large gash on his cheek.

When I landed, his hand was on my ankle; he pulled.

I fell, my stomach heaved when it fell on the side and my body hung over the table, my knife clattering to the wooden floor. I grunted, hurting. In a fast movement, he dragged me up over it, the edge of the table rolling up my body painfully.

I twisted in his hands, my own grasping at hard porcelain balls that roamed free in the green indent.

I lurched my torso up, and brought the ball to his temple. It cracked.

He snarled in agony.

I contracted my abs and rolled backward, then jumped my boy up just enough to get my feet underneath. During the movement, I managed to free myself from him and grabbed the pool stick lying there.

Now on my feet, very tall again, I acted quickly.

I swung it, and broke the stick over his head. The other broken part flung away, leaving me with a pointy, jagged end.

I jumped down, facing Darkhair, and he turned to me, furious, rows of fangs out to bite, and I hardly thought about my next attack.

I thrust the wooden pool cue, aiming for his throat, but the vamp advanced too quickly and it ground brutally into his chest.

I've watched too much Buffy.

Blood spurted from the wound, but the vamp only looked down at it and laughed.

I reached to the side and gripped another ball.

"Seriously?" was all he said.

Acting quickly again, I punched Darkhair with the ball in hand, and his face snapped to the side in reaction while I rolled over the table, back temporarily on the green then feet hitting the other wooded side.

I drew my Damascus knife from the floor and whipped up to see he, as I predicted, had followed me around.

He punched me, still laughing, I stumbled back, and when he reared back to attack again, I pushed my blade right through his middle-neck. His laugh choked, vocal chords drowned. From there I sawed to the side, his head still hanging on a strap of nerve.

Spinal cord sliced; my work was done.

One left.

Spotting the older man grappling still with the woman vamp, I moved to him, grabbing my machete on the way.

He must've heard me coming - in a flash of steel he whipped around, aimed for my throat.

"Woah!"

I ducked just in time, rolling under his attack and crashing into the woman, who pushed me quickly away with a snarl.

He beheaded her while her attention distracted by me, and turned on me quickly.

No more.

I rose my long blade to meet his and they clanged together loudly.

"Not a vamp, Grandpa!" I shouted at him, angry and breathing heaving from his murder attempt.

His bald head tilted to look me over, brown eyes catching on my steel before looking at my face again.

"You sure look like it."

I scoffed, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Hey." Sam's voice rang out authoritatively, "She's with me."

Blondeguy laughed.

The older man turned eyes on Sam, a curious expression on his face.

The bald man's arm slacked on the weaponry, "Sorry. Can't be too careful."

His eyes returned to mine, "You looked the part."

Why did people keep saying that to me?

Irritated he had to confirm through Sam, I scoffed again, "Again, what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're young and attractive, vamps have those features to lure in prey."

Ew.

Did he just hit on my after trying to behead me?

"Good to see other Hunters on the job." The bald man in his fifties had his eyes on Sam's, now stepping away from me.

"This your work?" he gestured to the wire and overturned bucket of blood, eyes flicking to my partner's, "Impressive."

He walked around to inspect our traps, as if measuring if they met up to his standard.

His eyes found Darkhair's nearly beheaded body; broken pool cue shoved through the heart. He chuckled.

"This your work?" His eyes glowed sarcastically to mine.

Blondeguy stepped beside his partner and laughed, "Nice kill, _Slayer._"

"Yeah? Let's see you improvise without any real weapon, buddy." I snapped back.

I seethed, irritated by them giving all the credit to Sam and discounting me, and my favorite tv-show heroine.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to ask," the smile I forced on my face sassy,"You two are...?"

Blondeguy shrugged and smiled back, the Bald man's eyes shifted to meet mine, a flash in them I didn't understand.

"I'm Samuel Campbell, and that's Mark. We're running an operation to combat all this monster activity lately. You two seem like you know what you're doing. If we got to know you better, I'd like to have you on the team, we could use the help."

Campbell…it sounded familiar.

Chicken noodle soup maybe?

"No thanks, we got out own thing going here." I rejected his offer; quick and distasteful.

Sam grunted in indifferent recognition at the name, "I'm Sam Winchester, and that's Joanna Harvelle."

I turned my eyes to Sam, hoping he got my I-don't-like-them memo.

Samuel (older) blinked and straightened in surprise, "Winchester?"

Sam nodded, tone flat, "You're my grandfather."

Oh, damn it.

That changed things.


	8. Trial and Error Vignette

**Note: **So, I guess I haven't let go of my story from _A Hunter's Playlist _yet, because I found myself typing out this little one-shot of Jo reuniting with the Kevin and the Winchesters a few months after the events from the last chapter. I was thinking to post it as a vignette for it, but decided the style was more fitting to post in the Collective. I hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: **This includes some dialogue from 8.14 from Supernatural. I do not own it, I am just altering it a bit to fit in Jo.

* * *

Season 8

* * *

**Garth's Boat**

My boots made some noise clinking on the rusty little ship, still acclimating to the sway of the boat.

"Guess who Kev?"

There was no answer.

"Are you asleep?"

Still no answer as I descended the steps, the walls thinning the space around me.

"Don't pull the paranoid Ninja on me, it's Jo, I'll prove it."

I reached the bottom on of the steps and the dank smell hit my nostrils. I reacted negatively, letting an, "ugh" sound pass subconsciously through my throat.

Gross. Did he ever clean this place?

"Hey, are you planning on answering me ev-?"

When I rounded the corner I dropped all foodstuff and coffee in hands.

Kevin was on the floor, nostrils bleeding over his lip and into his open mouth.

I dropped down to him, shaking him gently.

"KEVIN! KEVIN, WAKE UP!"

He still didn't wake.

I pressed my fingers to his pulse; it wasn't pumping.

His chest wasn't rising or falling either.

Magic was out of the question; that was some black material. I wasn't opening that door.

Naturally then.

I tilted his head to create space behind his neck and the floor; opening the airway. Left hand on the forehead to keep the adjustment, I used my thumb and forefinger to pinch his nose, blood squeezing to stain my fingertips. My right hand lifted his underside chin.

My mouth closed around his.

One breath.

Two breath.

Still no pulse.

I found his Zyphoid Process, two fingers above it, I placed the heels of my palms and interlocked my hands on top of each other. Arms locked and shoulder directly over, I compressed down on his sternum, fifteen times.

Tilt his neck.

Lift his jaw.

Plug his nose.

Mouth to mouth.

Two breaths.

Fifteen compressions.

Tears where starting to flow the second time around, but I saved my breath to give to him.

Neck tilt, jaw lift, mouth covered, two breaths, ten compressions in-

Kevin's muscles began to twitch, his face contorting.

I stopped, fingers jabbing to his neck.

Stronger pulse.

I rolled him to his side immediately, tears now changed to ones of elation.

Kevin groaned and vomited, spewing out sideways from his body.

I was laughing and crying while the vomit began to stink the place even more.

Once he was finished, he tried to roll to his back again.

"No, No. You've got to stay like this, just in case alright?"

"Jo?" his voice strained.

"That's me."

"Are you alright?"

I chuckled loudly, nerves still active, "Are you?"

"What happened?"

"You fucking scared me to death."

"What happened?"

"You died."

"What?"

I sniffed up the tears, smiling, "Welcome to the Resurrection Crew."

"How?"

"CPR. So far you take to title for natural reviving."

"Did you do that?"

"Kill you? No."

"No, CPR."

"Who the hell else? What have you done to yourself?" I exclaimed to him as firmly as I could with a shaking voice.

"I don't even know."

"Fucking stop it. I'd hate to make jolting you back to life my new hobby."

"Thank you."

I took a deep breath to calm the nerves still pumping through my body, "No problem."

He rolled on his back, I didn't stop him this time, he seemed to recover alright.

"I think you've made the place smell better, if possible."

He gave a small grin on his clammy face to my making light.

I stared at him for a bit, trying to keep the tears from re-welling and falling on him.

"Jo..."

I cut his words before he formed them, "Don't. Do that. Again."

I swallowed as much of the emotional reaction I could down, an audible gulp sounding between us.

"I won't."

I nodded my head, finding words unable to come to me.

Kevin's hand was reaching into his pocket, weakly fumbling out his phone.

He snapped it open, and pressed a key, dialing someone from speed dial, then holds it up to his ear.

"What are you doing?" I asked incredulously.

Kevin didn't answer instead, he answered the other line, "Dean? Come quick."

He ended the call.

"What was that about?"

"I found something."

"And you had to call him right here and now? After what just happened? What the fuck Kev?"

"It's important." he wheezed, "Can you heal me?"

I scoffed, "No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not letting you breeze this death by without consequence, Kevin. You're going to feel every last painful bit of this. Learn from your stupid mistakes and take better care of yourself."

"Jo-"

"No. I'm not practicing magic to cure you, you need to go through this, you idiot."

* * *

Of course the Winchesters walked in packing heat and in formation. Dean was lead, as always.

"Kevin? It's us." Sam's voice called out.

"Over here." I answered, not wanting to get shot before they realized I was here.

"Jo?" That was Dean.

"Yep."

They entered what I deemed the post-it room, their guns lowering.

Dean and I met eyes. It had been a long while since I'd seen him, ever since Cas came back and Kevin's rescue from Crowley. Months.

Though our texting conversations were also scattered throughout that time, it was still strange to see him in the flesh. It gave me heart a sort of plunging yet flying feeling. It was uncomfortable and thrilling to say the least.

"Where is he?"

Kevin's audible retching was heard from the bathroom.

"Puking. He's had a rough morning."

"Hammered?"

"No, he was dead."

"What?!" Sam snapped.

"Yeah, luckily I remember my ABC's."

They looked at me questioningly.

"Of CPR?"

"What happened?"

"He's pushing himself too hard."

"It's worth it though." Kevin's nasal-ed voice rang over the port door hitting the rusty wall on his exit.

I scoffed, "Worth it to skip out on sleep, live off hotdogs and OD-ing on pain pills?"

"Kevin what the hell?" Dean's voice was stern.

"I think it was just a small stroke." He wrote off my comment, "But it _was_ worth it."

"What was worth it?"

Sam interrupted before I could explode over the 'small stroke' factor.

Kevin rose up from his leaning on the desk with a smile on his face, "I figured out how to close the gates of Hell."

* * *

"I'm going with you guys. You're going after a Hell Hound, Dean. Remember what happens when we face these things?"

Celebration and explanation time was done, Kevin showered and shaved.

I drew Dean aside to chew him out about bringing more pills to Kevin to keep him translating, and Sam kept the prophet talking in the main compartment. I wouldn't take the 'play through the pain' excuse.

In private on the bow, though, we started to talk about the new job on the line, which I was determined to join.

"Exactly why I want you to stay here."

"No way."

"Look Jo, this isn't going to be some revenge kick for you alright?"

I felt my eyebrows crease to narrow my eyes, in angry protest, "You were ripped to pieces too Dean, it's not about revenge for either of us."

"That's not what I'm seeing."

"How would you know? We haven't seen each other in a while."

"Yeah, and who's idea was that?"

I took in a breath, realizing it was my fault for that statement to come harmfully to his lips.

"Look, I'm just saying you guys are going to need my help. These Hounds are tough."

"Well I've survived one before."

"Lucky you." I said under my breath.

He still heard it, and it was now his turn to tilt his head down in silence and take in a breath.

We really don't know how to speak to each other without bringing up hurtful past subjects, apparently.

"Dean, you and Sam are already fighting over who is going to do the trials, wouldn't it be easier for me to give it a go?"

"Absolutely not."

"Way to put some thought into it." I retorted.

"I don't want-"

"What, me getting hurt? Tune in here, Dean, it's kind of our job. What, you think I can't do it?"

"No."

My expression stretched, eyes wide in potential anger, "No?"

"I mean yes, I know you could." He backtracked.

"Then let me-"

"I don't want to put you in danger."

"Dean I think we've established-"

"I just can't see that, okay?"

That silenced my next snap, in Dean-speak that was actually kind of touching.

"Well vice versa."

He looked at me, a small smile twitched to his face, "It's a little too late for me."

"Anything you say, I can reply the same, Dean. Let me help you. I'm more than capable."

"I know. I just-"

"I know." I saved him the trouble of having to admit it, "But you got to get past that if we're going to hunt together."

"Who says we will?" His eye twinkled.

I smiled, and cast my eyes down, "Well, I've thought and...I've really missed you, Dean."

Looking back up, I saw his eyes already on me.

"Me too."

I grinned, and stepped toward him, arms outstretched.

We hugged, and I felt his lips on my brow.

"You and Sam seem good."

"Yeah we've got some stuff out of the way. How've you been?"

"I've had time to deal, and besides this morning, I'm great."

"Still practicing?"

I smirked, knowing his dislike of the craft, "Yes."

"Not going black eyes anytime soon, right?"

Why did everyone ask that? Did I seem the type to use the darkside of the force?

I chuckled, "That storyline is tired, I'm much more exciting than that. In a good way."

We shared a smile, and I bit my lip in nervousness.

"Dean, I know I don't really have the right to say this...but I've been thinking about us...and I know a lot has happened since we last talked but I'm ready-"

"Hey."

I turned slowly and glared daggers at the intruder.

Sam.

He is just never going to redeem himself in my book, is he?

My mind itched to contract the energy around the door and slam it in the younger Winchester's face.

"Let's hit the road. Are you coming with us Jo?"

I waited for a moment before responding, giving Sam my bitchiest smile , "Yeah."

"Cool. Let's pack up."

Sam turned and left us, Dean swung his head back to me, "We should get gong. We'll talk after the job?"

"Let the winner be bathed in blood." I nodded.

He offered a smirk, and gave me a half-hug on the way out the door.

I lingered behind, taking a breath before stepping out to say my good-byes and brief lecture to Kevin.

* * *

**Shoshone, Idaho**

Research led us to who Dean referenced as the 'Beverly Hillbillies'. Unfortunately, the Cassity family weren't so friendly, and the 'work' we had to do as cover was shit- literally.

Once Carl was picked off by a pup, we almost though we lost or chance, until more deals just kept springing up all over the family. We played service crew and I revisited my bar tending days for the rich drunks. All liquor-ed up, they tripled the stakes when they divulged in front of Sam that Crowley was the collector for all these deals.

Kevin found us a cure to the doggie invisibility deal, and Dean and I were off to the Impala to ready ourselves while Sam kept the richies company.

Dean was busy cursing the glasses, while I retrieved my best weapons.

I heard footsteps approaching and rounding the car, while I was in the back seat of it. I peeked out the back window to find Ellie head straight for Dean. I doubt she knew I was here. A sudden urge had me duck from sight to wait and listen.

It wasn't eavesdropping if Dean knew I was there right?

"I like it...the whole Clark Kent look."

"Ellie, hey."

I knew she had the hots for him.

Why am I being so creepy?

"Hey. So...I think you're really hot. You want to go to my room and have sex?"

I nearly choked on my saliva.

"What?" At least his voice sounded just as surprised.

"I - sorry. I don't usually do this. I guess I'm feeling my oats."

I could feel the irrational anger toward the woman building up inside me.

"I can't."

I smiled in smug satisfaction.

Ha, take that.

"What?"

She stepped back.

"Okay. Uhh, embarrassing."

"Oh, no, no, no. No, I want to." he chuckled, "Believe me."

My jaw set and ground my teeth in a horrible way, the heat returning to my gut.

He was saying that because he knew I was here.

Fucker.

"No, it's okay - you don't. I guess I'm gonna..."

"Ellie, um... Rain check"

Or had he forgotten I was here?

Maybe. The subject of sex comes up and he's a fucking slave to it, as usual.

_"He'll fuck all those whores out there, but not you." _Meg's words through Sam's voice suddenly sprung to memory.

I felt nauseous remembering.

"This is one night only. Sorry."

I scoffed to myself.

Her footsteps retreated, and I stepped out from the Impala's backseat, slamming the door after my exit. It was more force than necessary, sure, but I didn't really care.

Dean jumped from watching Ellie leaving, eyes finding mine, a terrible realization on his face.

So he did forget in the heat of Ellie's moment.

"Jo."

His eyes flicked to the machete I held in hand.

"Dean."

I marched up, "These the glasses?"

I spoke in a quick pace, avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah..."

I snatched a folded pair from hanging on his shirt and turned to leave, machete hoisted and rested on my shoulder, sliding the chunky glasses on my face.

"Jo, I wasn't actually going to-"

I turned, walking backward as I answered him spitefully.

"Do what you want, Dean, you're not tied down, remember?"

Turning again to face the night, I walked off, adjusting the glasses, my grip white on the handle, hyper-focused on finding the Hell Hound that was somewhere out there.

"Where are you going?"

"_You're_ going to prep Sam and the Farmhouse Reality Show in there about the Hounds, I'm going to go kill one and take a bath."

His footsteps were crunching behind to follow.

"Don't you dare." I shouted back, and I heard him growl his frustration before stomping away to the house.

I directed my sudden flood of jealously and anger to the hunt. That puppy was going to be ripped to fucking pieces.

Finding a Hell-bitch, I tracked it, machete in both hands.

Surprisingly, I followed it around the house, and all the way to the barn.

Confused, I went over the facts in my head. Everyone in the house was compiled of everyone who could have made a deal - Ellie's quarters were in the barn.

Fuck.

I stalked it some more, hoping to come at it from behind while it tried to open the barn doors.

Too bad Dean cam strolling out, opening the doors and fucking up my plan. The son of a bitch even started to yell at it.

Classic Winchester.

While he was looking one way, the hound ran at his opposite side.

I ran to meet the in-between, slashing the blade down to cut off the head.

I was too slow and Dean shouted in pain and was thrown back, Ruby's knife in the dirt.

My attack followed through, but only sliced a bit of flesh from the dog.

It yelped and jumped back, snarling and circling me.

I raised my machete for action.

With a snarled roar it jumped at me again, I dodged and swung.

It was too fast and my swing too slow for decapitation - but blood sprayed as the blade came down on its tail.

Yowling, it turned and batted me harshly with a large paw.

Unable to react in time I felt the slash of its claws on my leg and was thrown backward, dirt flying. Though my glasses were lost, I could feel the heat of its breath coming closer, and it's paw prints shift the ground.

"HEY!" Dean screamed, crawling into view on the opposite end.

The hound whipped around in a flurry of soil, making its way back over to Dean.

My bawl of protest went unheard, as my teeth were nearly cutting into my bottom lip from the pain gushing from my leg.

Was this what my mother felt al over her body?

The thought was more than I could bear.

A shot-gun firing stole the noise from my ears, leaving a buzz in their wake. Twice Sam fired, and the hound howled each time.

I pulled my Beretta from the holster at my side, and took aim for where I believed the dog to be.

I fired.

It hit with a splash of blood to the air and a squeal.

Distracting it just long enough for Sam to roll, catching Ruby's knife from the floor.

The paws kicked up dirt, aiming for the body closest to it; Sam.

He caught the dog's throat in his other hand. It barked to rip Sam's face off, but he plunged the blade up, and drew it through the body. Blood poured down on him, black and thick.

It was done.

I concentrated again on the agony of my shredded leg, dropping and forgetting my gun.

Groaning from injuries and breathing heavily, the three of us laid there for Ellie to find us.

She patched us up, and I was laid in the backseat of the Impala while Sam and Dean undoubtably discussed and argued about their next move.

Whatever.

I focused my energy to healing. Luckily there was a full moon (no need for herbs and oils), and after digging through my supply bag I found the chunk of Rhodonite wrapped in silver wire for big wound emergencies. Gingerly placing the stone on the clawed area on my thigh, I flowed my energy through it and the stone radiated to my skin.

I grit my teeth and shouted, but the wounds were closing up, I needed to play through the pain of the advanced magical healing process.

Once it was done, I rested, waiting for the Winchesters for the long drive back to Garth's boat.


	9. Burn Out the Night

Season 2

* * *

"Jo?"

I lifted my head, eyes feeling drooped and swollen.

It had been hours since we left Dean.

The books loomed open in front of me, but there was nothing to see. The string of words lining the pages didn't have any meaning.

Bobby was checking up on me.

It wasn't difficult to figure out I wasn't being much help with figuring out what big plot plan Ash stumbled on, but I didn't care.

Bobby did though.

I guess I would too if I could feel anything.

I didn't speak, I just met his eyes.

They gleamed differently at me than how I remembered they used to. Back when he would play pretend with me. When my Mom and Dad would give me to Bobby for a couple of nights to go out on a Hunt together, or when Dad came home and they needed time alone.

Mom.

Still no word from her.

Mom and Dad and Ash were gone, and I was dropped off at Bobby's once again.

Now his eyes stared at me with empathy instead of joy; I had never seen them look at me like that.

I was sickened by it.

"Any matching prophecy?"

I shook my head and blinked.

He nodded.

"You should get some sleep, Joanna."

I didn't feel like it, but I didn't have the words to say it.

After my breakdown in his car I slipped right back into sleeplessness. The depression closed in, and there was effort to do anything; too much effort. I was tired, but would not sleep.

He sighed but didn't talk to me again, instead squeezing his palm over my shoulder.

I closed my eyes to experience the singular focus of his comforting touch.

The door knocked to interrupt.

Bobby's hand lifted off, my eyes remained closed, holding onto the feeling.

I heard the door open.

A pause.

"Hey, Bobby."

Dean.

"Hey, Bobby."

I was fixed in a freezing moment, eyes prying open.

"Sam. It's good to see you...up and around."

I wasn't paying attention to deciphering the words speaking anymore, though their footsteps shuffling on the wood house was clear.

Sam stepped in, first his head directed to look at Bobby's desk. It turned and he spotted me.

His eyes flooded with empathy, his face rimpled.

"Jo...hey."

I remained seated on the couch, eyes staring as far up as they would to fit his figure into my view.

He had been dead a few hours ago.

More footsteps followed, and I lowered my gaze to see Dean following his brother into the room, looking around. He met mine, and immediately downcast his eyes.

"How are you?" the body prodded me.

I continued to stare at Dean, and got to my feet. They felt disconnected; as if they weren't even mine.

Walking directly passed the dead man, I lunged at Dean, my face snapping close to his. Our eyes locked; his were hard.

"Why did you let me go?" I said low and slow, teeth starting to grit.

When he averted his eyes and spoke my name, I shoved him.

"WHY? WHY WEREN'T YOU HELD BACK, HUH? I COULD HAVE-"

My hand came across his face sharply, and Dean's jaw flexed. His eyes opened and flicked to me, head remaining tilted, leaving the red-printed cheek open.

"Why are you so special?"

I reared again, this time with a closed fist, and the sobbing had started through the shouts.

Bobby intervened before I hit him a second time. His arms closed around my mid-elbow and pushed me into the kitchen. I struggled, but not too roughly, I was too weak to fend anything off.

All the while, he repeated my name, as if to calm me. It had the opposite effect, I felt sickened and pressured.

"STOP! Just stop."

I broke free from Bobby once in the kitchen, turning my back to the men and rubbing the heel of my palms against my forehead.

"Jo-"

"Leave me alone." I spoke through teeth.

The library behind me was dense with quiet, it was too thick and I couldn't breathe from it. I turned out of the kitchen and stomped to the front door.

It slammed at my back.

How could he do something like that, there were going to be major consequences from it I was sure. And while I was loathing Dean for his selfish sacrifice, I loved what he did for Sam and was brutally envious of it. Why did Dean's brother get to live? Why wasn't I allowed to work the supernatural and get mine back, to get my mother back?

It wasn't fair.

On the porch, I paused, looking out to the road.

I bet a crossroad wasn't too far from here.

Something rooted my feet to the porch, as if I were a demon trapped. The tears were rolling again while I just stared at the road. Why couldn't I do it? Dean could, obviously, he did. So why couldn't I?

Mom wouldn't have wanted it.

Ash wouldn't have wanted me there either.

Sam, probably would have wanted to stay dead too, if he had a choice.

Tearing my eyes way from the road leading to my soul in eternal Hell, I stepped into a familiar area. I threw myself at the swing to my left. My body awkwardly sitting on the long wooden hanging chair, laying across it as I would have when I was shorter.

Bobby used to swing me on it. He draped a sheet over it and we would pretend I was in a rocket to explore deep space. I imagined this time, that I was floating in it, and as the wooden swing gently rocked me, I was melting deeper and deeper into the stars.

My eyes squeezed shut and I was lost to the void.

* * *

"Joanna Beth."

I was dreaming.

"Baby."

I blinked my eyes open.

The sky was darker, dusk shadowed the road I had looked down before.

My neck was stiff from the wood, and my body ached from non-movement, but I managed to turn to the hands that had shaken me awake.

"Mom?"

She smiled, "Yeah, honey."

I swallowed, unsure of how real it all was.

Had I wished it so hard it came true?

"What-"

"I wasn't there when the Demons hit the Roadhouse. I wasn't able to..." She trailed off, tears in her eyes.

Immediately I registered that this was reality.

I lunged my arms forward, dragging my feet off the swing to hug her tight.

Her hands fell on my hair and back, slow strokes to calm my sudden weeping.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here."

"We thought-"

"I know. But I'm not, and I'm here now."

I cried in her jacket, tightening my grip on the jean fabric until my knuckles went white.

"Momma...Mom - Ash -"

A tear let loose over her own cheek at his name.

"He left us some stuff." She managed to say clearly.

I could not form such defined words.

"Joanna, look honey."

I ripped myself away from her to see what she held in her hand; a set of brass knuckles lay in her hand. The side was engraved: _Ash_.

Taking them from her, I smiled at the memory, "These are the ones that got him kicked out of ITT."

"Damn fool." Mom whispered.

We both chuckled.

"Where -"

"He left a safe. Kept some stuff valued to him in it. I imagine he'd want us to have it."

I nodded, sniffling up the tears, "I'm so glad you're alive Momma."

"Me too, baby, me too."

My hand-held the weapon in my hands, feeling the weight of it, "What are we gonna do now?"

"What do you want to do now?" She tucked a hair behind my ear, "We can leave, go start a new life with Ash and everyone in our hearts or -"

"We should fight." I finished, feeling my resolution.

Finally, I had a direction.

"It's the right thing." I added, looking into her eyes.

Mom nodded, resting her palm on my cheek, "That's my girl."

"Did the boys come up with anything?" I wiped some tears away.

I might not have been any help before, but I was set to rectify that now.

"As - in the safe there was a map. We figured out that Samuel Colt built a big Demon Trap from railroads and churches, we got the notion Yellow Eyes is trying to let something out of it."

"What?"

"We don't know yet."

"Why didn't you wake me -"

"Bobby said you haven't been sleeping. You needed your rest baby girl."

"You knew I would fight?"

She smiled sadly, "I hoped you wouldn't but...you are your father's daughter."

* * *

Next thing I knew we were suited up for a fight.

I think it was the first time Momma ever let me carry a gun in front of her. It felt strange, as if I ought to be hiding it from her as I usually did. But I needed it brandished, especially in the Cowboy graveyard we were in.

Browning Hi Power Pistol in hand and a Taurus PT92 at my side wasn't enough to protect me from the asshat demon puppet James.

"Hey Sweetie. Do me a favor. Put that gun to your head."

I did, feeling that grounding sensation that I might experience a death beyond my control. It terrified me, and fueled such an anger inside.

I was turned into exactly what I didn't want to be; the damsel in distress.

My mother freaked.

I begged for them to shoot him, what was my death compared to the thousands that might be killed when whatever was inside of that crypt was unleashed?

Mom was the first one to throw her gun down.

I hoped the others would see some sense, but they all backed down too. I hated it, being the poor little vulnerable girl who was held hostage in exchange for the fucking coming apocalypse.

James was going to make me pull the trigger anyway, I could feel my finger itching.

Once he turned his back to open the gate, Bobby and Mom lunged at me to wrestle the gun out of my hand. The bullet shot off into the night, away from harming anyone, and Sam and Dean took their aim at James' back.

Though he smacked to the ground dead, it was too late.

The gate was opened.

The Gates of Hell, apparently.

Fuck.

Mom Bobby and I rushed to close it, while the Winchesters got all caught up in their saving each other dependencies. I didn't pay much attention to their end of the fight, I was too busy exerting all strength I possessed against that damned door.

We closed it, but again, it was already too late.

Demon Army was unleashed to the world, and the five of us had survived.

What was next?

War was the answer.

We would be the ones on the vanguard, accepting the responsibility for each demon that had flown out with black smoke rising and racing through the night sky.

Splitting off was established as a necessity without it really being need spoken. The more Hunts we could execute the faster it would be to drag all those demons back to where they had come, and that was an easy thing to deal with after what we had seen and been through together on this damned mission.

Dean had a year to rectify it, as we learned he traded his soul for his brother's life.

Idiot.

I hated him for his decision, but all the same I loved him for it; I wished I would have that courage, that love for your family member. I did, but no one would dare let me make that decision for myself. I was too young in their eyes, the baby hunter.

Well fuck that.

I would search just as hard at an answer for Dean as I would to learn hunting Demons.

The brothers drove off into the black night, the color melting into the deep one of the car.

Mom and I found ourselves back at Bobby's, after the Brother's departure. He had said he had a surprise for us.

From what I read my Mom knew about it too. So really it was just a surprise for me.

It was unspoken that Mom and I would hunt together now, it was just something that seemed to naturally merge together. I knew there was no way she was going to let me on jobs alone now that I was exposed to the baddest of the bigs we've faced so far. I had a taste for it now, and needed to learn quick to be at the head of this fight against the army loose out there.

When Bobby led us out back to his junk lot, I knew it had to be a vehicle. It made sense, my stolen Honda was far from here at the still burning Roadhouse, and it was hardly a car they would want me to be in undoubtably. It wasn't classic enough, not in the style of a hunter.

"It took me some time to fix up Ellen, but I've had it sitting here for a while now, fresh paint and all."

My mother smiled at him, a deeper kind of one that seemed as if the two shared something I was missing.

"Thank you, Bobby, I can't tell you how much it means to me."

"Happy to do it."

I remained silent to let them have their moment.

Then Bobby stopped at a garage, and lifted open the door of it, folding up to the ceiling to show it.

A beautiful deep maroon 1969 Buick Special Deluxe was parked there, shined up and staring right at Mom and I.

"What do ya think?" Bobby's voice came from the side of the car.

"Bobby...It's beautiful." my Mom seemed to almost tear up.

I knew why. I recognized this car. It was the one she and Dad had when they were married. A gift from both sides of the family. I remembered this car, playing in the back of it, watching the fields of grass roll by.

The tears started to swell up for me too.

"Jo?"

"I love it." I blurted, "Bobby -" I ran and embraced him tightly.

"Thank you so much..."

"I was happy to do it, I'm just glad I got you talkin' again, kid." was his answer. I laughed shortly, releasing him for my Mom to give him a tighter, more lingering hug.

Leaving them to it, I traced my fingers lightly alongside the Buick, feeling the light static rise to my fingertips from it. Inside, it was plush soft leather; white. The wheel was covered in the leather too, a classic big one from the 60's. The shifter had some of the same material capping the ball, taller than any modern one. the backseat was just as I dreamed of; like a booth seat at a restaurant. It was the same in the front, one long stretch of seat.

"Joanna Beth?"

I stopped my inspection to see my Mother's hands resting on the hood of the car, her body perfectly mirrored against its color.

"What do you say, honey?"

I smiled, the first real one since I first saw the Roadhouse smoke in the distance. In my pocket, I fingered the brass knuckles to give me courage.

"Let's hit the road."

* * *

**Note:** So it was Jo's first real crazy fight, I had to cast her as the distressed one unfortunately. I dislike how they made Ellen the damsel, at least one woman should be as badass as the men! So Jo, the newbie, takes the hit.


	10. Who's That?

Season 6

Sometime before episode 6

* * *

Nothing was happening inside the house from what I could tell.

Had Sam already been here?

No Challenger or Impala in sight. Then again I hid mine behind and tree line; Sam would keep it out of sight too.

I was sure I would beat them to the call about the nest. Maybe they weren't here yet.

Either way, it was quiet, and that usually meant the monsters know we're here.

Great.

My heart pounded for who could be waiting in there for me.

In through the nose, out through the mouth, I took the ear buds and rolled my wrists to fit them in my ears. On shuffle, I pressed play and let the phone take a musical direction for tonight.

When the first few strums of one of my favorite songs sounded quietly from the buds, a grin broke on my face.

_Dance of Death_. Maiden.

Perfect mood music.

I roll my neck slowly from side to side, allowing deep cracks to burst forward. Giving each side a turn to stretch out, I hum along. Twining my fingers for palms facing my front, I twist them around and stretch out, releasing some more air bubbles trapped in my knuckles. I move my outstretched arms above my head, keeping the shoulders down. I applied the weight of my arms to the back of my head, bending it down to elongate the cervical spine. Rolling and swinging my arms to check mobility came next, each arm held in tension 'til warmth.

I dive down, continuing my stretching routine as the lyrics began. Hamstrings relieved, I fold forward, palms fully on the floor. My back cracks in response.

Yummy.

_"...chill the bones…" _I let my voice sing the phrase quietly while preparing my body.

From there, I lunge back deep, each leg in turn, my elbows meeting the dirt ground. I tucked my neck under my knee each time. Quads loosened next, and I'm feeling satisfied that I'm ready.

I pull up the shining maroon trunk and got my equipment; five blades: machete strapped across my back, Damascus Bowie on my left, three black pearl finished Whetstone Stilettos fastened to my belt on my right. Last, I stored Ash's brass knuckles in my front pocket.

Guns would be no use, deep cuts and hard hits kept them bleeding and weak, but head trauma is the only sure thing to end them.

Ever since Sam and Campbell rode out to Bristol, we began to realize reports of the Arachne were popping up everywhere.

And the strange surge of monster activity storms on.

"_I was rambling enjoying the bright moonlight_," I burst out, clicking the trunk down, "_gazing up at the stars_."

Starting to walk toward the building, I pull out the left ear bud, tying the other to my sports bra, I unzip my Droid from my pant line on my back, scrolling for another selection.

I love the song but I need some thrash while hunting. When I cool down later, I'll return to it.

The song stopped Dickinson mid-lyric, and Judas Priest's strumming caught my anticipating ear.

Mouth-singing "jow" noises to match it, dancing on light feet up across the grass to the house.

I hear a sudden commotion from inside.

Hurrying, I climb the steps, drawing one Stiletto from my right, and my Damascus. Stepping in the open door carefully, despite the sounds of struggle. The small entryway splits off, a thin rounded wall at my front.

The music climaxes and continues a roll as I walked in, back to the wall and saw a flash of movement from the right side.

A hiss joins the clamor of commotion sounding from the room on my left, triumphing over the "Oooo" in my ear.

Before he lunges at me, I throw the Stiletto, and the singing begins.

It lodges in his mid-forehead, crashing to me dead. I leap to the side to avoid him, spotting six figures grappling in the other heavily webbed room lit by a shelved candles.

'_No hesitating, my body's aching'_

I step to help Sam - and was pushed out the open door, hard. I trip over the threshold. Balance regained, I counter the newcomer's shoving with Damascus into his belly.

He screamed his pain in my face, monstrosity showing intricately crystalized eyes and molted brow. I kneed, then kicked him back. He fell, head cracking on the rock basing the separating wall.

I hurried in again, finding a short stairway leading down to the boys in the yellow glow. I stepped down, and grabbed the attacking creature pinning down Dean. I thrust him up and he hit the front window, arms failing enough to rip the buds from my ear and the jack from the socket.

The song continued to blast on speaker from inside the storage packet in my pants, "_...we're ready to hit the roof!'_

He showed his fangs, and he begins with a webbed jab, I block, avoiding the sticky substance, then round back with a stab to his throat. I sever the spinal cord.

Gurgling, he falls.

I turn to Dean who is on his feet, back up the stairs to chase another into the other room.

Another caught my attention, shrilling at me, a woman, who pelted around the bend from the other wall side at the beginning of the hall. I threw the Stiletto. She tilted her shoulder and it hit the wall behind.

I tensed up, lifting Damascus. She dodges the slash and claws on my right shoulder, throwing all her weight on me. I fall, but bring her down with me, momentum turning the impact to our sides.

'_Uhhh, Delivering the Goods.'_

We thud parallel to the fireplace; her back facing the rock.

She bares her fangs, I cut a gash on her low back, she pushes away from me, seething. I roll to my back, lift my shin to connect on her face, then force down my boot to pin her arm to the floor with force. I roll on my right knee, same arm clamping her wrist down.

No webs were getting me today.

Feeling the open wound on my shoulder from her claws, I tighten Damascus on her throat.

I was about to cut, but was wretched off and thrown on the couch, the music muffled.

Dean had lost his mark.

The Arachne growled in his efforts, poison fangs coming down on me. I kicked with my right, planting a firm flat foot to his gut. He made a vomit-like noise and retreated a few steps while I managed to slip on the knuckles in my pocket.

Dean and I pulled a switcheroo.

I launched myself up and slammed them into his face, his nose cracking and bleeding. He stumbled, reaching behind his back and -

_'Hot blood, doing good,'_

Fuck he has a Glock.

No fair.

I prepped myself.

"Gun!" Dean wasted his breath instead of focusing on the woman.

I arranged my blade to parallel the length of my forearm, and went for his wrist. It sliced, he roared, the woman was back on me from behind.

Damn Dean, again? He was rusty on the combat.

She dug deeper into her recently created wound, and I shouted, turning to rip her away from my right shoulder.

With a sudden deathly noise and spurt of blood she fell for the couch; Sam got my back.

I turn focus back on the male Arachne and he crashes his fist across my face, some web sticking to my brow. In the shock Damascus clattered to the floor and I step back.

He aims for close-range execution.

"Watch-"

I slide my right leg down into a lunge, ducking from the chamber, and let my last Stiletto fly. It sheaths itself through the underside jaw.

Out, Dean didn't finish.

_'Yeah, Delivering the goods.'_

It was a perfect hit. It ought to be, I was insanely close to him.

Fearing his finger to pull the trigger in death, I immediately grab his wrist, returning to standing and direct it to the ceiling instead.

It discharges, I wince and release, he falls below the couch.

More were stomping down the hall. Two; male and female.

I ran ahead, Sam beside me.

Sam slammed her against the wall, and I slid to yank my Stiletto from the adjacent wall right beside my new target.

He snarled when I closed my palm around it, clawing for my head. I turned with the wall to avoid it, the plaster crumbling where I would have been.

The music blared, building up again.

I stab his arm with Damascus, pinning his dangerous claws to the wall, then drove the Stiletto into his temple.

Sam and I made eye contact, he had yet to finish her off. He gestured to Dean who had another on him.

I understood.

_'Have it your waaayy.'_

It annoyed me how well we communicated.

Sheathing Damascus, I jerked the Stiletto from my last kill and threw it at the back of Dean's bulky male opponent's head.

Another hit.

Sam snapped his mark's neck.

After the body fell, Sam and I turned to face the hall, ready for a next wave.

None came.

"Clear." Sam affirms.

I unzipp my phone from my back.

_'we don't pull no-'_

Pressing the stop button, the air is bloody and boring with no soundtrack. But I know how much music annoys Sam during hunts, so I ended it as soon as I was able. Even though the house was clear and the fight over.

Five for me and Sam. One for Dean.

Man, a year off really slows one down.

Sam and I made eye-contact, and nodded to each other in confirmation and a silent 'thanks' from him.

I bent down to retrieve my Stiletto from my third kill's heart. I then rounded the wall to the other side to collect the other from my first.

Dean had leaned forward to pull the one from the back of my fifth's head.

I didn't take it back from him, avoiding the older Winchester.

I wasn't sure why I was doing that yet.

All knives minus one, I stepped over the body and crossed the threshold out; my work was done.

"Who's that?" I heard Dean say at my back to Sam.

I scoffed.

Really?

I guess the candle-light was dim, but still; really?

* * *

**Campbell Compound**

_Later that night._

* * *

"Slayer!"

"Hey Mark."

We greeted each other as I stepped into the compound, resting my weapon's bag on the table while I rounded to the hall to the barracks. Third door on the right was my room. I opened the door and threw the pack on my bed.

Without stopping I returned to the hangout room, where Mark and Gwen were cleaning some weapons.

"Gwen." I sat next to her and started unzipping the bag.

"Hey there, haven't seen you in a while."

"I was solo for a while. Harpy in Oregon, Lami in Kansas, Skinwalker in St. Louis and Arachne nest one state up. I missed all the Shifter action I'm told."

"And the Djinn." Mark chimed with an unmistakable grin.

Gwen and I shared a look, "So I've heard."

"So you did just come back from hunting with Sam and Dean?" Mark asks with a tease in his eye.

There was no deterring him from digging at the subject.

I pulled out my bloodied Damascus, and started to clean it, "Yes."

"How was that?"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his underlying context, "I saved their asses."

"Really, now?"

Fuck the day Sam told them about my story with Dean.

I really hope that Sam would have the sense to keep details about our...partnership quiet.

"More like Dean's ass."

Mark laughed, then took notice to my blade, "Where the hell did you get that?"

I smirked, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You know Hitler had those blades made special for each élite officers, he was obsessed with the steel. They're goddamn expensive how the hell did you afford it Nazi?"

"Please," I gestured the tip of it toward him, "I don't think I can handle anymore nicknames for me. Stick to one, it's getting hard to remember."

"You're just saying that because you like my calling you Slayer."

I grinned, "Doesn't have the same ring as Buffy, but I'll take it. As long as it's not a blonde joke."

"May I?" He gestured for the knife.

I handed it over for him to inspect.

"How was the hunt?" Gwen asked.

"Fine." I pulled out the two Stilettos, "Though one had a gun, which is weird."

"A gun?" Her brow rimpled.

I nodded, "A Glock. They must really be getting scared of us."

Just then the door opened.

Gwen and Mark looked to see, I didn't; already knowing who was walking through the door. I just kept on cleaning my knives.

"Hey Sam. Dean." Mark's voice was obviously juiced for possible upcoming drama.

Sam's voice didn't sound, I knew he acknowledged them with a nod.

"Gwen and Mark right?"

"Hi." Gwen's response was terse. I had told her all about it, even the stuff about Sam and I. She and I grew close over the last few months.

There was a pause.

"Jo."

I turned at Dean's greeting, offering a light smile.

"Dean."

Mark 'ooh'-ed.

Gwen and I shot him a glare.

"I picked this up."

Turning back, he was handing me my third, dirty Stiletto.

"Thanks." I took it.

"Is Samuel upstairs?" Sam interjected.

"Sure is. I'll go with ya." Mark thrust off his chair and joined the younger brother with much too wide of a smile.

As the two went to debrief chief Campbell, Gwen awkwardly got up from the table, packing her guns into a neat rows and folding them into a bag.

At my pleading look she responded, "I'm going to practice with Johnny."

Damn it.

Just me and Dean now.

The door shut after her exit loudly.

"So..." Dean shuffled forward and took Mark's old seat directly across from me.

My heart started to pound again.

Why the fuck do I still have that jolt for him after what he did to me?

Because I missed him.

I continued to clean the knife he returned to me, "So..."

"How have you been?"

"Good, you know," my voice was too high on the range; nerves, "Just hunting a lot."

"Yeah, I noticed." he chuckled.

I looked at him questioningly.

"Just seeing you there...hunting, from where you started out...it's a trip."

"You'll get used to it, once you warm up some." I grinned back.

It was returning; the easy to talk to thing between us.

He shrugged, "So you and Sam teamed up?"

I nodded, gulping my secret with Sam down and putting the Stiletto away, "Yeah, for about seven months there. Then we found the Campbells and -" I waved my hand around to gesture at the room, "You know the rest."

"Everyone knew he was alive but me." He shook his head, a frustrated puff let out his nostrils.

"Well I definitely wasn't going to call and tell you."

His face visibly grimaced at my comment.

There was a moment before he spoke again, "Jo, I just want to say-"

"Dean." I interrupted him, "It's fine. You really don't have to say anything."

"Just the way I left things, I know it wasn't right and I know you're probably not too happy with me. And I gotta admit, having a Harvelle woman angry with me, after what I saw you can do is...a bit frightening."

He chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

I let a small smile shine through.

"I just want to clear the air here."

I took a breath. I guess this talk was overdue.

"Look, Dean, you're right; I'm not happy with how it ended between us, but I understand why it did. You wanted a life away from Hunting. Being with me wouldn't be a complete escape from that, together we would constantly be reminded of where we came from, what we did before a normal life. And you with Lisa...I see how it's like a complete different world than what you've had before. I understand that now. I put too much stock in the time we spent together, I know you never really saw me as someone you wanted to be with. I guess you only really thought of me as in the family...and someone who was into you enough to bang-"

"It wasn't-"

"It was. And it's okay, Dean. I've learned from it. Growing from experience and things like that. Just, next time, when someone asks you a serious question like that, say what you really mean to say, don't just give a vague yes because you think it will make them happy for the time being."

"I didn't mean for that - I'm...I'm sorry, Jo."

"I know, and I forgive you. I've changed Dean, and I can relate to what your situation must have been like."

"Nah, you haven't."

"What?"

"Changed. You're the same Jo, just..."

"Better?" I grinned.

"More yourself now I guess. I dunno. I don't know what I'm saying."

"I think I understand."

"Jo, I just - I want us to be friends again. I don't want you to be angry with me." He stated, returning to the original discussion.

"We'll always be friends you jerk. And it's been a year, I got over your decision a long time ago, Dean. I'm not angry with you anymore."

There was another pause, and we met irises.

"We're good then?"

I nodded, and smiled, happy to get that out of the way, "All polished."

He nodded, "I missed you."

Another smile of sentiment pulled my corner mouth up, "Me too."

There was another pause, the air between us calm and comfortable, like how it used to feel.

He angled his body to put his socked feet up on my lap from under the table.

"So, what is up with Sam lately?"

* * *

**Note:** I constructed this chapter off of this quote:

"The character (Jo) was originally conceived as a love interest for Dean, but even the writers admitted that Jo came off more like a little-sister character. "In hindsight, Dean wouldn't be attracted to that character...He'd be attracted to someone who walked in the door, slaughtered everybody and walked out, and then he would say, "Who's that?""(Eric Kripke, S2Com).

Here I'm starting to build that uncertainty within Dean that he made the right choice. Jo has grown into her own, and now a tied-down Dean starts to feel more attracted to her newer personality aspect but is stuck between emotions for Lisa and a normal life, and Jo and his former/future life.


	11. The Dead

**Note: **Thank you so much JBethH for all your support to keep me posting! You're awesome! So I realized I have almost every season in a chapter, some even twice over, but I have yet to make one for Season 4!

* * *

Season 4

* * *

I opened the door with the dingy key the clerk had given me.

At least it didn't smell like cum. The last one reeked as if it the previous renter had paid by the hour.

The room smelled as the key did; dusky and iron-y. I just hoped this wasn't the scene to the latest murder in town.

I set my clothing pack on the bed, then turned to deposit my weaponry pack to the table. They were in need of a good cleaning after the

My phone vibrated.

**Mother**

Throwing it to the bed, I didn't want to answer.

I was still somewhat upset with her. At first I thought hunting with her would be great, it was for a while. Then she just kept smothering me. I wanted to find my hunting niche, and she just seemed to get in my way, always trying to protect me from the jobs we were sent on. Always second guessing my research and attack tactics.

I had to run away from her to even face my first vamp alone. Then that turned into a Hunterfest all its own when everyone frickin showed up and I got shot for the first time. When I met my mom at Bobby's after that incident she was all the rage on finding Gordon and Kubrick and killing them both for the bullet they put in my elbow.

I had no choice but hunt with her again, there was no escape. For months we would bicker on the job, until tension exploded again when I took my direction on a hunt for some Ghouls. It got the job done, but Mom insisted I almost died.

We parted on the worst terms.

I was on my own again. I called Dean, hoping to be of help in the area of Lilith, but the boys were too wrapped up in it to put me on a spot. When I called Bobby for an in, he bit, and I was put on research duty at his house.

Endless books and reading ensued.

When the big discovery of where Lilith was, they left me in the dust and disabled my car, to 'protect me'.

They could have used me. I could have changed things. If I was there, maybe...Bobby told me those wishes were useless.

What was done was done.

Dean was dead.

Four months later here I am; dealing and hunting. The two seemed interchangeable, I just kept on. Even hunted for a bit with Bobby. At least he got to see what I had grown to as a hunter. Heard my mom was setting up a new bar somewhere, heard Sam was on the job as adamantly as I was.

The family was falling apart it seemed. Or was it ever even together? Did I just put so much emotional stock into Bobby, Mom, me, Sam and Dean after our Hell Gate adventure? Did they see me the same way?

With a heavy sigh, I laid out a cloth on the table and organized my guns largest to small on the first row, knives on the second. I sat, thoughts weighted with all these queries of the past and began to take apart the guns. Then came the cleaning. It needed it after the month I've had.

Vamp, vengeful spirits, and I just returned from tazering a Rawhead to death after he got a kid two nights before.

Don't think about him.

It was heavy, knowing the drive that took me to get there cost the life of a child before I could even start the hunt. Not counting the one before that caught my researched eye and myself on the case.

It was hard to be alone at times like these, times when you didn't quite save everyone from the monster.

I needed someone to talk to about it, before I started crying again for the little lost boy.

I needed a partner. One that wasn't my mother. Isn't that what hunters do?

One could go insane killing the things in the dark all alone for too long. They'd forget what they're fighting for. I was already starting to feel that creeping feeling.

* * *

_**Meanwhile...**_

* * *

It was dark when the Winchesters walked down the stairs of a white house, settling and creaking from the expansion of the day. The only thing that made it eerie-er was the dead body that was strewn all over the walls of it.

Dean's light of his phone shone on his cheek, and Sam looked grim beside him.

"We're in Jackson." Dean spoke to Bobby on the other line, "It's not pretty. He looks even worse than Olivia. What about you?"

"R.C." his voice garbled through the speaker by the wind speeding by his car, "I checked on Carl Bates and R.C. Adams. They've redecorated... in red."

"What the hell is going on here, Bobby? Why did a bunch of ghosts suddenly want to gank off-duty hunters?"

"I'm not so sure they're only gunning for them. I think they're coming for Hunters period."

"All of us? What did you see?"

"Someone I ain't seen in years, someone dead. He tried to kill me."

"Bobby-"

"I'm fine, haulin' ass back to my place, but you guys need to get the word out. I'm getting Ellen, but...Jo didn't answer."

Immediately he pictured the last scenes and plugged her in the situation. Dean felt as if an ice-chunk deep under the skin traveled down from his brain to his navel.

"We're on it." Dean threw himself into the car, Sam followed, catching on to the sudden urgency of the situation.

"Where is she?"

* * *

There was a knock on my motel door.

I felt the face of confusion meld into my features, and looked at the clock.

A visitor at 1:15 am?

Sliding my father's clean knife from off the table and into my hand, I walked over and slowly opened the door.

The knife relaxed in my hand from behind my back.

It was just a little kid; 8 maybe 9.

I opened the door wider.

"Hey there Buddy."

"Hello."

"Are you lost?"

"Yeah."

He walked right into the room without invitation.

Well alright then.

I backtracked quickly and threw a long cloth over my weapons on the table, sliding the knife in my hand instinctively into my belt. I went over and swept my phone from the bed.

**14 missed calls**

**Mother**

**Bobby**

Woah. Silent mode is really a killer.

Putting call backs on the to-do list, I ignored the warnings of voicemails for now, and turned back to the kid.

"Alright, let's start with your parents number, do you remember-"

The little boy was just staring at me, suddenly drenched, soaking the carpet, leaking drops of water all over.

"What-"

"It had me, it was holding me under the water...I kicked but it wouldn't let go."

My spine stiffened.

It happened; I was going insane.

Gulping, I gripped the phone tight and sucked in a breath.

"Ookay." I turned my back to the allusion and sank down on the bed, eyes wide open for fear of what was in the room. I even felt his presence thickening the air behind my back.

I took a deep breath, "He's not real."

"I was." The kid was in front of me.

I screamed at his sudden reposition, and jumped on the bed.

"Your death wasn't my fault. I wasn't even there!"

"Exactly." Another voice answered from the open closet directly across the bed.

I whipped my head to her. She was blonde, bits of hair ripped out from her skull, leaving gruesome swelling pink and red scars scattered all over what should have been a full head of hair.

Hair like my color.

I felt a chill rake deep under my skin; I had found a chunk of her hair in the vents of H.H. Holmes' old building. Her name was Katie Burns.

"You weren't _there_ to save us. If you were, we would be making with the living."

I felt water soak up the knees of my jeans while staring at her. Tearing my eyes from her dirty form, I returned to the kid who crawled over to me, the wetness fell from him in puddles to drown everything he touched.

I scrambled from the wet sheets, and turned to take the flight response.

In front of the door stood a line of others I immediately recognized, catching the theme my head decided to play tonight. One was a teenage girl who had been wrapped up and turned to a vamp; her head was hanging on by a strap of skin. The dead man who had been eaten by the Ghoul, he still had the bullet I put between his eyes. The woman who was possessed and was forced to shoot herself in the head with one of my guns, the hole through her temple still dripping blood and brain over her shirt. The demon was making a cruel point to my mother and me.

I whirled to the window for escape.

Katie grabbed a lock of my hair and pulled it clean off.

I screamed, head jerking back, eyes tearing and torn from the window, feeling the blood seep from my head.

The Ghoul man appeared in front of me before I could make out what was happening.

"You should have known it wasn't the REAL me, you should have known he ATE ME!"

He raised my Browning Hi Power to steady between my widening eyes. Before he pulled the trigger, instinct forced my action. I gripped my father's knife and slashed at his hand. The gun dropped to my feet as he dissipated into the air with the momentum of my strike.

Pure Iron blade.

He was a ghost.

They were all ghosts.

The teenage vamp girl swung my machete horizontally on my left, hoping to catch my neck. I dropped, feeling the whoosh of the blade over my head, grabbing my gun.

It wasn't the one I needed though. I needed my Ithaca. It had salt rounds right next to it ready to go.

I slashed at the girl's feet, and she too, disappeared into the air. Jumping to my feet I slashed at the persons around me, but they kept replacement of the other ghosts I had dispersed moments before.

"Please," I cried, "I didn't mean for any of you to die!"

The bullet-hole woman shoved me, I flew across the room, hit the corner of it and fell hard on the table, knocking over chairs and weaponry all over the floor. Bloodied, desperate and crying, I grabbed the salt container from my bag and my Ithaca that was lying unprotected on the floor.

"AH!" I screamed when there wasn't any rounds in it.

With the salt container, I tried to form a circle, but the attacks from the five of them would never cease to try and grab at me brutally, leaving welts and raking over my skin from their nails turned claws in vengeful energy. Each time the boy touched me I felt the water bubble up in my lungs.

"PLEASE!" I screamed, gargling the water in my throat from the boy. I threw salt at them, and it eased the flood inside me when the boy would disappear.

Then my eyes caught a hold of three rounds under the over turned table. I brandished my knife to make the little boy and woman vanish, the rolled to grab them.

They were in my fingers when the vamp girl hissed and tried to claw at my face. I struggled to turn and let her hack at my back while I loaded the gun. I snapped it shut, and it was set.

I whipped my torso around and pulled the trigger, screaming.

All five caught the blast of rock salt, and faded quickly into the air.

I didn't have much time. I grabbed the remaining bullets scattered on the floor, and drew a salt line around me.

It was just about complete before Katie appeared and gripped my hair again. I shot her, catching an approaching teen and little boy in the range.

I finished the line, tears streaming hot.

I double-gripped the knife and the shotgun in one hand, my other at the hilt and finger on the trigger.

When the Demon woman and the Ghoul appeared, I was ready.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

The end of my last word was clouded by another loud discharge.

They were gone instantly, and the door behind them flew open in a hurry.

Who I saw burst from it chilled my core all over again. My aim faltered.

"No." I sobbed, "No, please, no!"

Dean.

Gun in hand, aimed to take me out like the rest of them.

"Not you, not you. I'm sorry, I wanted - to save you..." Crying, I adjusted to shoot.

His hands immediately followed barrel-point protocol, thrusting his own gun into the back of his jeans.

"Woah, woah, Jo, it's me, I'm not a ghost."

I sucked in a whimper of disbelief, shaking my head.

"No. No. No. I saw your body..."

"Jo listen to me-" he paused to blow away Katie in a loud fire, then turned back to me, "I'm alive. I'm right here."

Sam bawled into the room, shotgun raised.

I raised mine to shoot.

"JO-" Dean's green eyes were wide and flinching.

I shot the Ghoul man who had appeared beside him.

"Dean?"

He relaxed, "yeah."

"How?"

"An Angel."

I scoffed through tears.

It was eerily quiet, no spirits were clawing at me, trying to kill me...it was simply silent. I stared at Dean, amazed he was real, actually standing right in front of me.

Sam was checking the room.

"I think they cleared out." he informed us, "They don't like fair fights."

My lips rolled in on themselves, trying to keep back another wave of tears. This was all too much; the Ghosts trying to kill me, me almost killing Dean, Dean being alive, Angels exist?

I fell forward, unthinking, into his chest.

Dean simply held my head with one hand and wrapped his arm around my mid-back. I kept the crying as quiet as the room, but I knew he could feel my shaking all the same.

He stroked my hair.

"It's over now."


	12. With Benefits

**Note:** Infused from the plot-line of episode 15 of the same title. Some of he dialogue is not my own.

* * *

Season 8

* * *

Back on the boat, Dean and I opened the conversation again.

Mainly, it had strayed nowhere from the fact that he and Sam had to deal with the trails now. He failed to give me any reason I couldn't be apart of that fight. It was strange, I know he wanted me to be there with him, but he wasn't opening up to the fact that he doesn't trust anyone but himself, and couldn't give me a yes or no answer.

It was very vague, wish-washed, and getting on my nerves.

He got a text that interrupted us.

Dean let a heavy sigh release reading it.

"What is it?" I asked, half-annoyed.

"An old friend of ours who needs our help apparently."

I rolled my eyes, "and that would be...?"

"James. Frampton."

My breath caught in my lungs for a second, and I fiddled with a post-it on the table beside me.

"Oh."

Dean's expression furrowed, eyes investigative.

After a moment of observing me he asked plainly, "What was that?"

"What?"

His head tilted at me.

"What?!" I was starting to get irrationally defensive.

Why? Just tell him, damn it.

"Fine. While you were gone I needed some help...James and I kept in touch since we ran into him last and we - reconnected..."

"I don't want to hear it." Dean immediately shut his eyes and shook his head, waving his hand at me all the same, as if trying to wipe the image away.

"Dean-"

"Nope."

"Are you going to help him at least?"

He shook his head rapidly.

"He could be in real trouble, Dean."

"Not caring at the moment."

"Why because we had sex?"

Dean's whole body twitched violently, "Could you not?"

"You can't hold that against him! That has loads of past-tense on it. And out of the two of us who should be jealous of other people the other has 'lived' with-"

"Lived?"

I shook my head, irritated, "Something and I Kevin used to say to each other -" I said quickly, waving the thought away with my hands.

"That was your guys' code word for sex?" Dean laughed, interrupting me again.

"Point is -" I interjected, then was suddenly at a loss for words, "You had sex with an Angel!" I blurted.

"Anna didn't have her Grace then!"

"Never mind, it shouldn't matter!"

We both clamored the sentences at once.

"You guys, this isn't a jealousy issue!" Sam invited himself into the conversation.

Dean and I both turned to him, both having forgotten he was there.

"This is the snag you two have hit this snag year after year. It's inevitable and funny too, everyone sees how this will end but you two."

"Yeah," Kevin, who was also miraculously there, chimed in, "You guys are like the Mom and Dad of the gang, you just have to end up together."

"Ew."Dean and I reacted at the same time.

The prophet tilted his head at an angle, "C'mon you guys know what I meant."

I had to say something, still confused, "Side note; where did you guys come from?"

Sam and Kevin both scoffed and rolled their eyes.

"Just because you two fade into your couple talks doesn't mean the rest of us cease to exist." Kevin answered smartly.

"Who is this everyone, by the way?" Dean asked his brother aggressively.

"Bobby did, Garth, Kevin, Cas..." Sam struggled for more names.

"Wow, shortlist."

Not to mention one dead, but I didn't say that part a loud, "Should we be sad about that?"

"Anyway, point is, you two always just seem to come back to each other. It's not hard to see one day you guys will finally just stay together." Sam shrugged.

I turned my head to Dean, his look to me delayed by seconds.

"He's right."

"Hey, I'm not the one who was like, 'we need time'."

I raised my eye-brow and quirked my lip, "Was that an impression of me?"

"You are so ADD today."

"Well now you're having reservations too, Dean." I circled to the original topic.

"Yeah 'cause -"

He paused and glanced to our two eavesdroppers, who were still in the room.

I rolled my eyes, "Mommy and Daddy are talking, kiddies, why don't you go play together outside?"

Sam, Kevin and I shared a laugh, and Dean shot his glance immediately back to me.

"Not funny."

The boys clamored up the stairs and to the open, outside part on the boat.

"Lighten up, tuts."

He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall opposite to me, starting to talk again now that they were gone.

"I don't like the Witchcraft."

I heaved a sigh, irritated by my prior knowledge that this would have come up again one way or another.

"We've been over this - "

"Everyone who has ever practiced ends up with some kinda problem, and sometimes they can be deadly. I don't want you to pull that number. I want you out before there's even the slightest chance of something getting to you, can you understand that?"

"Yes. But I'm not going to take it that far, Dean, I'm not even close to touching black arts. I got a taste of that while you were gone and it was intense. Too intense. What I don't think you're understanding is that it gives me that edge in the fight. We deal with some powerful guys. I'm small. I've got to have a leverage on them to boost me. You need to trust that I am in control."

"It's hard to, after all I've seen."

"And it will take you some time, I get it, but just give me that time to build your trust for it."

Dean arched away from the table, shoulder in his ears as if to stretch his low back.

There was a small pause while he got himself upright, thinking about my words.

"Why do we do this? It's so simple but at the same time so complicated." he murmured.

I took a breath, "Yeah. But this isn't anything that new Dean, you freaking out when I'm ready to start something serious with you. Let me just tell you now I can't take another year. Hell, Lisa and Ben, Purgatory, you always come back and we always start something. It's just built up so much over the years and gap years now that it could finally be the real thing. If that's what you want it to be. I love you Dean, that's just it. Whatever you want to do with that is your decision and I hold nothing against you. But if we do this, we love each other for the way we are. As is."

He unfolded his arms and placed his palms backwards on the counter.

"Well now that you've gone all mature on me..."

I laughed through closed lips, the smile coming easy.

It was really nice not to be stressed about this topic for once. I just hoped Dean had the same attitude.

He took a breath before continuing,"Purgatory really...changed me. It sounds lame but It really did. And now with Sammy doing the trials, I just know now that I will _never_ leave this life. I'll always go willingly with Sam or against any bad mother who wants to call up his directorial début on the Apocalypse. I've come to terms with that now, It's just who I am. I'm not the one to give you the adventures of a home life, Jo, I just can't promise you that."

"Is that what you've worried about?"

He shuffled, arms crossed tighter.

"Dean, I know that. I've accepted that too. Hell, I don't see a life for myself away from Hunting. The road and the hunt is our home, let's just be together while we do it. No half and half. All in. That's what I'm asking. That's all I want; you and me in this."

He stepped forward, "Yeah?"

"Yes."

He nodded, close enough for me to tilt my neck to view his face.

When he leaned down, I know it was his way of saying everything he couldn't think of just then, his way of affirming our new relationship. Our lips met in a short but meaningful kiss.

He held my face when we parted.

"There is no way you're coming on this job with us though."

"You're not seriously threatened by James after-"

He kissed me in interruption.

I pushed him back.

"I'm coming. Deal with it."

* * *

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Dean and my 'beer run' (quickie in the Impala/actual beer run) returned us to a Familiar. After my explanation to the boys about just what she was, the woman started the sour face at me.

Her attitude toward me came down harsher when she told us who she belonged to. So James' Community did allow him a Familiar. She must have learned about James' and my history... awkwardness on an already awkward situation with me and Dean.

Yay.

I was just loving past Jo and her determination to be apart of the hunting group.

Then she started to explain James' problem, and I grudgingly admitted to myself I was the perfect person to be that intermediary between Hunter and Witch relations. I could even see undercover work coming up for me in his Community he was talking about before.

"Well, here's the thing. Uh, witches - not real fans." Dean commented snarky.

I punched his shoulder, "Hey."

Portia stepped closer to us and got right in front of him.

"Really?" Her clear voice had a bite to it,"Well, James is a cop with a spotless record. He's used his skills for nothing but good."

I stepped to her side, angry with the angle he was talking, "Yeah, why don't you lose the ignorant bigotry for maybe two seconds and give him a shot?"

Portia turned her body to me and growled audibly, letting me know she in no way needed my words to help her out.

I stood my ground, facing her in turn, staring right back at her. I'm tired of stupid jealousy kicks. James was an old friend and I would help him, no matter how much his bitch or Dean didn't want me to.

For a moment we glowered at each other, the air between our close bodies tense as she continued her low growl.

"That was incredibly hot."

We ladies shifted our necks to direct a new kind of glare at Dean, who whispered it to Sam.

Portia scoffed, and I gave Dean my 'really?' face.

"It was pretty hot." Sam supported his brother quietly.

While Portia shook her head at both, I settled to ignore them, launching right into hounding her (pun intended) for details of the job.

This would be an awkward one, with two sensitive topics coming at me from both sides; James and my former relations and practicing the craft with a skeptical boyfriend. This was a job we would all just have to work through.


	13. Sad Memories I Cannot Recall

Note: I've posted so quickly because I have so much time on my hands and so much inspiration!

* * *

Season 5. Directly following episode 10: Abandon All Hope.

* * *

The beer bubbles boiled up in a gentle consistency, pushing all the other bubbles to the edge of the glass.

I'm drunk, that was clear from the three darkest beers they had on draft.

Dark is what I like, I decided.

It got me drunk faster.

And I liked it that way.

Yummy yummy in my tummy.

I removed my focus from the beer then to the grained wood of the bar.

I burped loud and giggled to myself, thinking how Mom would -

No.

No thinking about it.

Fuck it.

All of it.

Fuck life.

Fucking...that sounded good now.

Another yum.

I chugged the last of the beer, glass still cold on my fingers, and slammed it down on the bar.

Done.

Like I was with everything.

I turned, ignoring the bartender's babbling about a safe ride home. I waved him off and continued my way on the street. I walked to the parking lot, feeling pressure of the liquid in my stomach and fizzing my head.

Climbing into the Buick, I turned the engine over and took direction, ignoring what was maybe the 8th phone call from Bobby.

* * *

I walked around the house, pulling up dust from my wheels in the front.

Bobby's house was dark; everyone inside asleep.

Hearing noises in the back, drawn to them; noises familiar to my ears.

The light in one of the garages was on.

The garage; the Impala parked inside.

Score one for me.

Dean was definitely in there.

Reaching my arm's full length on the side of the garage, I hung off the edge of the opening. watching him work from under the hood, his muscular arm smirked in grease.

Yum.

"Heythere, Deano."

He jumped, "Jesus- Jo?"

He asked after he got a good look at me.

Slamming down whatever tool was in his hand on the red box behind him, he turned toward me aggressively.

"Where the hell have you been? No how to answer the phone much?"

I walked along the black beauty of a car, closer to him, trailing my fingers on its steel as he came down on me.

Really, I wasn't listening to his words.

I was just watching his lips move.

Yummy.

"You can't just take off-"

I was close enough to take the chance, so I did.

On tip-toes, I crashed my lips into his, my hands grasping the back of his head and the side of his face.

My lips tingled moving against his.

Damn, it felt good.

I bit his plump bottom one, dragging out and releasing.

Before I could latch to him again, his hands kept my at a distance.

"What was that?"

In anticipation, I rolled my bottom lip under my own teeth and groaned.

"C'mon Dean, juss let this happen."

I leaned in, eyes closing again.

He pressed back, licking his lips.

"Are you drunk?"

I tilted my head back at him, "Does it matter?"

"Jo-"

"So what, I've had a few beers."

"Damn it Jo, did you drive here like this?"

I ignored him, and pushed him back against his own car, craning his neck down to meet my lips full on.

I went for it.

All of it.

He was struggling to fend me off.

He didn't want to.

I didn't want to.

Everything tingled when we touched.

It was amazing.

Then I stumbled back from his pushing me away.

"Stop that. 'Comhere."

"No. No more of that."

I 'pffft'ed, undeterred, walking to close the distance between us again.

He stepped back, rounding the hood of the car.

I took down the hood and slid on top of it, crawling gently on his car seductively.

"Dean..."

His back hit the wall opposite and his eyes glued to me. "Oh, God."

I smirked, and started to remove my jacket slowly.

Though my limbs were numb, they were still under my awkward command.

I tossed it aside, and took off my over-shirt quickly, leaving a laced up under-top.

Thank you past Jo for wearing it.

"Oh...God." he repeated, slower and more tempted.

I was getting to him. On my knees, I leaned over and grabbed his shirt messily. Tugging him to me, and locking my hands to the back of his head.

My in between lips caught his lower, and I moved them into compliance.

More moments came after our lips moved together. Delicious moments than made me moan and him give in to it.

Then he had to ruin it again.

"No, no, no. We can't do this."

Though this time his head stayed within inches of mine, I took advantage and ran my hands sloppily all over his body. And left trails of wet kisses on his neck, fingers curling under his shirt to lift it.

"Jo-"

"C'mon Dean, you were right-" I spoke between kisses, "the other night. We should have-"

He pulled away without my expecting it.

"What?"

"Made with the merry."

"No, we really shouldn't have, you were right."

"We should now."

I leaned forward, but he leaned back too quickly, and I fell.

Flat on my face from the hood of the car.

I heard his sigh, remembering my inebriation.

Hell, I was just remembering.

His hands were on me, helping me up, and I tried to support myself even while gravity swirled me.

"You alright?"

I didn't answer, too busy getting the feel for my own feet. When I finally got to standing, I realized Dean's hands were on me, keeping me still. I flung my arms away from their steadiness.

I didn't want any of his help.

"Jo-"

I stomped past him into the junk lot.

"What the hell are you _doing_?"

"Gettin' outof here."

But he was already somehow behind me. I guess I wasn't as fast as I thought I was being.

"No way, you're not driving like this, Lindsay."

I spun around and shoved him, feeling myself stumble back more from it than him.

"_Fuck_ your blonde jokes."

"You're the one going to get behind -"

"Why didya change your mind?"

"Wha-"

"To have sex with me - why?"

"I didn't. Don't get me wrong, that on my baby was... extremely hot. But you're drunk and grieving, Jo, I'm not gonna do something you'll regret."

"Oh please, I've always wanted to have sex withyou, anyou know that."

I spoke over him beginning to answer.

"You wanted to the other night!"

"The other night was-"

"A lasst resort?"

"No."

"Lair, that was your whole pick up line! Lassday on Earth bullshit."

"Why are you upset? _You're_ the one who turned _me_ down!"

"It was the wayyou asked me, Dean!" I shouted, beginning to pace in front of him just to keep in motion, "Isjus like Meg said -"

He snapped, "Meg?"

"You will fuck all these other stranger girls," I spoke over him, "but when you finally come around to even _think_ about becoming that intimate with me, it might have been our last fucking night alive!"

Apparently he had no answer. He crossed his arms, face grimaced in discomfort, eyes dense in the darkness.

The only lights we had were the white garage framing his silhouette for me, and the sun-stained one cascading down to lighten me.

My panting was the loud in the silence after my shouts.

"Am I just a little girl to you? Some desperate little thing youthinkyou can manipulate because I like you so much?"

"No."

"Then stop fucking treating me like one." I spoke low, my throat horse, "You and Bobby and Sam and Mom all think-"

I stopped myself there.

Mom.

She was dead.

How could I have forgotten that?

The crying hiccups returned, and I lost it all.

Dean stepped into the yellow light to catch my tears in his shirt.

But it wasn't just tears that was coming up.

I jerked away from him suddenly and emptied my stomach into the nearest junk car window instinctively grasping the window frame to steady my convulsing body. The sharp rust was throbbing up my palms.

When it was done, I turned back to Dean.

He stepped toward me, but I held out my dominate palm to keep him away.

His large hand enclosed my wrist. I tried to yank it out, but his grip strength was too strong.

"Stop-"

"You're bleeding."

"What?"

"Your hands."

I flipped my left palm up, examining the small glass shards sticking out from it, more blood than I would have thought leaking on all sides. It must not have been the rust that did the stinging.

"Well fuck." I managed from between large, sucking crying breaths.

Dean's arm went around me, and I stumbled while he guided.

Almost falling to the floor, knees weak, he brought me up again by the wrist.

"Alright."

Once I was up, he slid his grip from my wrist to my upper back, then swiped my feet from the ground from behind my knees.

"Woooah."

He didn't stop carrying me back to the house.

"Too fast."

"Well you're the dummy that got drunk and now you're bleeding everywhere."

My eyes focused on a dark stain on his shirt; fresh and red.

"It's on your shirt."

"Everywhere; like I said. Don't worry, we'll get you patched up and sober."

"Inno time?"

He chuckled, "Yeah."

"I'm sorry I pushed you." I spoke while tears fell and pooled awkwardly into my neck's indent.

He was at the back door, kicking it open.

"It's the last thing on my mind."

We were in the house now, he lay me down on the couch in the Library on my side.

I remained as he put me, fearing if I moved the atmosphere might suck me into its whirlwind.

The lights flicked on and it shone too bright, too fast.

"Ah!"

"Put this over your eyes."

I felt something fall on my chest, he threw it at me.

I pulled the cloth-like substance over them as instructed, and relaxed again in the darkness.

"Why?"

"I have to get the glass out of your hands, for that, light is needed." His voice answered from in the kitchen.

I heard his footsteps make his way over to me after a few moments of rustling objects.

He sat in front of my thighs, they leaned on his low back from his bottom's imprint. He placed a fluffed pillow beside him, I could feel it spooning into my stomach and crook of arm.

I felt him take my right hand across his lap, my elbow on the edge of his thigh.

Was that liquid I heard him juggling around?

"OW!" the burning came instantly, the smell of alcohol filled my nose after. I could hear the dripping noises catching in a bowl between his parted lap.

"Keep still." was all he said as the pinching began.

He was not taking it easy on me.

With each chunk of glass out, the more sober creeped up on me. I was dying for water.

After the first hand was clear of glass he wrapped it up in gauze, not so gently. Wincing and pain sounds were heard, but still Dean remained hard-faced. He got me some water though, even had to tip it into my mouth for my lack of grip. I imagine he was quite frustrated with me.

The second hand was harder. I wasn't numbed up on alcohol anymore.

The blindfold came off and my eyes could adjust better to the light. It couldn't help that I could see the damage now too.

"Do you want a shot?"

"Ughh. No way."

"Just try to fall asleep, then." he growled.

"With you mutilating my hand?"

"I'm not the one who did this."

"I didn't either."

"You got too drunk to be aware of your surroundings. Your fault."

I huffed, and he continued.

By the time it was done I was exhausted, still feeling weak and slightly fuzzy from what toxin was left over in my body. A highly unpleasant buzz.

"Let's get you to a bed."

"There's no extra one."

"There's mine."

"I'm the dummy remember? And too many stairs. I'll just stay on the couch."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Gentlemanly though."

"Don't forget it."

He got up and walked to the light switch. Glancing back at me, his finger flicked it, and the lights instantly popped out.

"Night Jo. I'd hate to be you in the morning."

I scoffed, a bit resentfully, "Good night."

Dean turned to leave the room.

"Thank you." I spoke to his back.

"You're welcome." he responded gruffly, beginning his climb up the stairs.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the mouthful I'd get from Bobby in the morning.

Dean was right; it wouldn't be a pleasant one.


	14. Jo vs Meg

Season 7 Episode 17

* * *

"What is going on?" I whispered distinctly to him.

"I'm not really one to have that answer." Dean kept his voice low on the way to the store.

We hadn't had a moment to ourselves since Emmanuel/Castiel had joined our road trip to find a cure for Sam's hallucinating head. This was our time to sort out what the hell was happening.

I was just glad that Dean was finally letting me in, letting me work with them instead of beside them. It was everything I thought it would be. adventure, action, even great sex. Altogether it was looking like my year.

Dean and I had returned to an unspoken agreement of 'whatever happens happens.' and I couldn't be more happy with it. Two independent people who have feelings for each other, hunt together, and can be intimate with each other. Whenever we talked about us he or I would leave anyway, or things would get weird, so it was just best to let that part go.

Best friends. Benefits. The happy works.

I'd take it as long as we were alive.

And that was what Cas was, apparently; alive.

Shocker.

"Can't anyone just stay dead?"

Dean was pulling out his phone as we walked in, "If it worked that way, we'd both be long gone."

"I've only been brought back _once_. There's no use counting yours."

He didn't respond, I looked to him, and noted I had already lost him to his phone in front of the beer fridge and chip aisle.

Of course.

I rounded a different one to pick up some car snacks for myself.

I heard a loud shout of attack burst over the innocent store speakers.

Dean was under attack.

My hand instantly went for my Damascus, drawing it for the violence.

Dean had already thrown him through the glass cooler.

Another was behind him though, and I swept in swinging.

He dodged, I hit him with some brassed knuckles. He fell hard into the aisle rack, knocking it over. The rest fell like dominoes. I was on him again, gripping his shirt and hurling him to the opposite wall.

Dean got the stab in his mark behind me.

"Knife!" I shouted, knowing my Damascus wouldn't cut it against black eyes.

He didn't hesitate to throw it.

Catching it, I plunged the blade into his heart.

Demon killed, I turned to Dean in the sudden quiet.

He was holding his now broken phone.

"Oh, c'mon." He growled.

"Dean!" I warned him, suddenly catching the eyes of four new demons standing between us and our way out.

I threw him the knife, he caught it and sliced for his first target.

Taking out this time two glass bottle shots of holy water I kept stored in my belt. I ran at my first demon, slamming it over his face.

_"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," _I began while he screamed as the glass broke on bone and the water burned him. I

_"omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,"_

I punched the other in the gut with my brass and broke the other shot in hand over the back of his head.

_"omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."_

Before the second could get up I kneed his stomach and sent my elbow into his spinal cord.

Dean crashed into shelved products, but I had to keep going, I couldn't help him. Taking a deep breath, I kept up my chant.

He fell to the dirty glossed floor.

_"Ergo, draco maledic-"_

I turned to recieve a mighty push from my first mark.

My low back crunched on the clerk's desk, and my head hit the pole beside it.

Ow.

He was still coming at me. I gripped the pole above my head, and lifted myself to kick him with both power in my legs.

_"Ecclesiam tuam securi -"_

He stumbled backward.

Almost done.

"_tibi -_"

My breath caught in my throat when I saw who was standing behind my mark.

She had her hand on Ruby's knife and was killing Dean's demons.

Who the hell was she?

The remaining demons evacuated their bodies.

Obviously someone to reckon with.

Another angel, I immediately guessed, who had watched over Cas this entire time?

"Emanuel, you son of a bitch." an unseeing Dean was grateful.

The body fell and Dean saw her.

His eyes lit up; he _knew_ her.

"Emanuel. Yeah, not so much."

I stepped forward, lost to both of their recognizing stares.

"Meg."

Icy fingers clawed through my body.

Meg.

The demon Meg.

I've just never seen her from behind.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. You got some 'splainin' to do.

Dean's eyes shifted almost frantically to me, who was already on the move.

"Jo, wait-"

His warding me off was too late; I already gripped her by the back on the neck and ripped Ruby's knife firm her hand.

Her voice yelped in surprise.

I threw her back from my hold on her neck.

She recovered.

"Why isn't it blondie comin' to play with us biggins."

I re-positioned the blade.

Dean tried to grab me but I was too quick, already attacking her.

I slashed, she dodged. I sent my brass knuckles to her face, she was knocked down.

"Fuck, girl, you learned a thing or two." she laughed.

It only gave me more fire.

I kicked her, she blocked it.

"Jo, stop."

Dean grabbed my arm armed with the knife, I wrenched it out of his grasp and pushed him away.

Next time he tried that I might just have to punch him. He wasn't going to stop me.

She was up.

I slashed, she avoided, but not soon enough.

She shouted at the gash on her shoulder I left through her jacket. I didn't give her a break, landing a kick right into her gut with my dominant leg. She was hurled back to more glass coolers, her body crashing into the glass, her head hitting hard metal bar above. She fell into the shard-filled cooler.

She chuckled as I leaned inside to take her by the hair and rip her out.

Meg slammed her face to the dirty tile floor, chunks of glass following.

I bent down and grabbed her bleeding back head, cracking it against the floor.

Red splattered the white under her face.

I slammed her head against it again, hearing another wonderful crunch.

She wasn't laughing anymore.

I kicked her over one, as she struggled to get up. My knuckles where white around the blade hilt, ready to plunge -

Dean's palm enclosed around my wrist, yanking me up and whirling me around.

Between me and him was the knife, between me and her was him.

For an instant the huntress mind gave me an instinct to slice him with it and move on to her.

But I caught those green irises and it stayed the action. I tried to jerk myself away from him, pushing back on his firm chest with my other hand. When he did not let go, it turned into a fist beating on him instead.

I hadn't realized I was shouting, hot ranged voice ripping at my throat.

"Hey! HEY!" he struggled to restrain me.

Twisting my wrist to the point of breaking it, I released the blade to him, and he pushed me back.

"Damn it Jo!"

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STOPPING ME?" I screamed at him.

"Because I got demon insight, tuts." Meg weakly chimed from behind him.

"Shut up." he commanded her, then turned his eyes back to me, "She helped us awhile back, with-"

"Helped you? I'm sorry, what the fuck are you saying to me?"

"She might be useful against Crowley. We might need her."

I paused to take that in. It sunk deep, like an itch under my skin.

"Do you remember who she is?" I began again, low and tearful.

He blinked slow in response.

Spoke this time through grit teeth, "What she did?"

Again, he failed to give a verbal answer, but his hard swallow told me he did.

"And this is outweighed by how she can _help us_?"

"Jo-"

"Shut the fuck up."

His mouth immediately closed.

"You worked with her?" my voice broke.

"SHE SET THE HOUNDS ON US DEAN! Killed my MOTHER!"

"Jo-" He took a step toward me, apology in his eyes, but I pulled sharply away, disgusted.

"If you're going to be working with her, count me out."

"Don't do that, Jo. We need you."

"As much as you need her?"

"I know-"

"No. No,you really fucking don't. How quick you Winchesters forget death when it isn't either of you that is dying. Well I REMEMBER. And I refuse to forget or forgive. ANYTHING that bitch has done. And I will kill her for it."

"I'm here to help, so that makes us friends...would it help if I apologized?" Meg spoke again from behind Dean.

"I said: Shut. Up." He snarled at her, then turned back to me again, "Look, I've had to do this sort of thing too alright, working with people you hate, but there is a bigger bad out there, Jo, we have to focus on bringing it down. Not vengeance."

My eyes shot holes through his body, my own shaking in rage, "You are NO ONE to be all high and mighty when it comes to revenge. That demon has done more to me than you could have ever experienced from any other."

"She's done a lot to me too, if you remember Jo." He spat, trying to make a point.

"Fuck you, Dean." the tears were rolling now, knowing he would never understand. But I sure as hell wasn't going to make him.

I shifted my eyes to Meg.

"You best be waiting for me, bitch. I'm coming for you, and you aren't going back to hell this time. I'm going to make sure you are fucking permanently gone. The long, painful, and bloodiest way possible."

I turned on heel and walked out the door behind me, not caring to wipe the tears drying on my face.

Ignoring a concerned Emanuel/Castiel, I ran across the street and picked myself into an unattended car, stomping on the pedal and burning rubber on my way out.


	15. Alone

Season 7

* * *

The guard leapt out-of-the-way and I drove through the wooden stop planks. They broke off and fell as I turned and punched the gas forward.

"The sign."

"No, moron, we need a getaway."

That was obviously something I wasn't going to drive into. Dean would kill me.

Still speeding, I bumped it into neutral, wheel turned sharp, throwing up the parking brake and hitting the break at my foot. Rubber burned, the Impala's tail spun gracefully on the wet asphalt.

I let Meg be the first to take hits from Leviathans.

"You think we're getting away from this?" Meg's lips corner drew high on her left, almost abnormally.

"I know you won't be." I shot back, grinning fiercely, door already opened.

She turned to hers and stepped out.

Gunfire sounded and slapped into her arm.

I popped the trunk filled of extra Borax jugs.

She kept taking shots, the passenger window shattered.

My feet carried me out, taking the machete in my right, Dean's angel sword, Stiletto and my father's iron Knives sheathed in belt and thigh strap. I rounded the car, staying low and picked myself a jug in my left.

Meg was already set on one; pouring it on his face.

I marked the second, coming up from behind her and slicing the head off while she sprayed the next one.

She took care of that neck, and I threw Borax at the third, promptly removing the weight from his shoulders through a slice.

Black blood spurted.

"Later home nuggets."

She turned, I pivoted in her way, dropping my machete and Borax, pulling out the angel's sword.

Facing her, I blinked.

Breathing, in she locked to my eyes, "Really? At a time like this?"

I moved, slashing.

"C'mon, Jobaby."

Fingers out to snatch my wrist, she closed there and directed it away, dodging.

I swung my elbow into her temple.

Once.

Twice.

I jerked my arm up down, trying for the thrash out of her claws.

No give.

I grabbed her hair and forced her down into my knee.

She still didn't release her grip.

I wouldn't either; that blade meant her death. But she placed herself so open to bodily attack.

"Shouldn't you be helping your Deano?" She coughed out her pain.

I stopped for a moment until she looked up at me, attacked like a shark would to take off my arm.

She looked up at me, blood trickling through shining teeth, "Even if they kill Dick, you Scoobies will still have Crowley-"

I gave her a brass-fist full of silence.

She dropped her grip for a moment, and it was all I needed.

Slamming the hilt of it to her forehead, she stumbled back and I aimed for her heart.

Panicked, Meg through all of her strength into a swing from her machete.

I abandoned the heart and rolled to the side, hearing the _shying _through the air beside me.

She was still completing the downward attack when I came at her side.

Again, she jumped out-of-the-way, rolling into a lunge at the bottom of the grass incline.

That was annoying.

"Fine. I'll apologize," she swung the machete to the ready, "but your mother was really not my doing. I can get you a puppy to play with if you'd like instead."

I paid no attention to her talking; I was hunting.

Hustling down to her, she matched my pace backward.

She sliced her large blade in a spate of vertical and horizontal strikes, I stretched my neck back then arched my back out to avoid them.

Moving to her side, I aimed another metallic punch across her temple.

Stumbling, briefly, her lips still grinning. She dropped the machete and drew a nine-inch Ka-bar to match my parry to her side.

They clanged together loudly through my eardrums.

Twice we met metal until she struck and kept extreme pressure on it.

The edges gritted and whined together between our close faces.

She applied more pressure, I pushed back.

"And as for the sex, well, you should be thanking me, baby doll."

I got the strength to push her back, and slashed the blade in large, rapid diagonal movements.

Up: caught her on the cheek. Down: she clanged hers against mine. Left: they tolled again and I felt the throbbing from the power in my radius. Right: _Riiingg_ of metal on metal filled my ears.

"Before me, you'd never had a Winchester. Now you've had two!"

I thrust to her side neck, she jerked and swished across my stomach with the step. Laughing.

Sucking it in, I jumped away.

She slashed the Ka-bar back and up on the right diagonal - I caught her side wrist open-palmed and cut for the elbow.

Meg lifted to avoid, but was too late.

She yelped, and the skin flapped, hissing and opening red.

No more happy sounds from her.

I let her step back and feel the fear of her imminent death.

Her eyes found something behind me.

"Fuck. Me." I heard her grit.

I turned behind me, and saw the four band of demons approaching.

I broke into a run, but the Demon's telekinesis caught me right in the gut.

Falling backward, I aimed and hurled the sword.

It thudded into my attacker's heart.

He screeched and the souls inside let a last flicker of light out before dying.

On the ground, I flipped up to catch my footing. I ran for the body to retrieve my weapon, but the others were too quick and threw another jolt of energy at me.

It slammed me down hard on the grass.

Fuck.

They subdued Meg to the ground too.

"Kill the blonde. The King of Hell will see _you_ now." the shortest one spoke to her.

The two not holding Meg stepped to me, and I wrenched my father's blade out and swished it at them madly.

It cut each and sizzled, the demons themselves hissing.

When I jolted up, the Impala was on the other side of them.

No way I could get to it without dying.

Sorry, Dean.

I spun around and took off, cursing another missed opportunity to kill Meg and Crowley for not giving us a break with the evil.

I sprinted directly for the building's back door, hoping I wasn't too late.

If Crowley sent his men to pick off the scraps already, it meant Dean and Cas had killed Dick.

Whoopee.

Now they might be in a different kind of trouble.

Once in, I found piles and splatter of black blood everywhere. I even slid in a couple during my hurried shouts to Cas or Dean or Sam even Kevin, the prophet kid whom I barely knew.

There was no answer.

Searching the halls and the stairs, I got to calling Crowley's name.

Still there was nothing.

I happened across the fight scene. It had to be, there was such a larger blood blast pattern in this Lab room. This was where dick died, and no one was here.

They made their way out while I searched the building.

Retreating to the parking lot, I found the demons gone with Meg, our handiwork of black pools in the grass and pavement.

The Impala was gone.

That was good, and bad.

_Someone_ must have survived: good.

Bad: They think I'm dead and left me behind. I suppose I would have assumed the same in that situation. No phone to call them on, I had left it in the Impala.

I had to get to Whitefish.

Picking a random car from the lot, smashed the window open with my brass knuckles and hot-wired the engine.

Spinning out, I hauled ass to Rufus's Cabin.

They were all there, I knew it.

Cas would be talking about the care of some plant, Sam and Kevin would be bonding over education, Dean would be on his second beer and all smiles. We had always sent the tough going, this time would be no different, better even, than before.

They would be there.


	16. Soulless

Sam's P.O.V.

Season 6: Episode 14

* * *

"Jo?" Dean's voice held a bit of anger in it.

I wondered what she did this time? Or what he did.

He did just see Lisa hours ago after the case.

Maybe that's why he wasn't too happy to see her, he was still working out feelings between his most recent ex, and now his other one - if she was even considered an ex - shows up out of the blue.

Whatever it was, it was an endless thing between them. I shouldn't start to try and figure it out now.

"De-?"

"What are you doing here?" He spoke over her.

She gave him a narrowed look lips rolling in anger, "I can be where I want."

"I thought we agreed -" my brother's eyes darted to mine before leaning closer to her.

If I wasn't looking I might not have caught that.

"-that some distance was needed."

What, do they need some privacy?

I scooted away from their confronting postures, hoping Bobby was around to give me an out.

Jo stepped away from him, and glanced at me, "Hey Sam, sorry your brother is being a rude ass."

She threw in to spite Dean.

"Hi-"

I met her light brown eyes.

And locked on them.

Dean recaptured her attention with another biting comment, and I was still caught on her.

Jo's movements slowed, her eyes shining to blink away with mischief in them, her hair aggressively twirling in the air as her head turned.

I could feel something coming up, rushing from somewhere, as if it were vomit traveling up to hurl itself out of my mouth.

Not actual vomit; memory vomit.

Oh shit.

_Jo's hair twirled around and my hand was in the crease of her elbow, beginning her aggressive turn away from me and into the door of the hotel._

_Her front slammed into it, her breath hot and amplified against the flat surface._

_I fit myself against her, feeling her butt against my front, breathing into her hair. One hand filled a fist of blonde locks, the other slid over the rear and slapped it hard._

_The way her body jumped from it stiffened me._

_She panted, "Hey Sam, I got to get the door open -"_

_I tugged on the locks, her neck went back and I crushed my lips on hers. She moved them against mine in urgency. _

_Mid-kiss, I slapped her ass, feeling the lift of her body react. _

_She pushed me away, hard enough when I wasn't expecting to hit the other side of the hallway._

_Facing me, she slid the key card and kicked open the door behind her, a wicked smile on her face. _

_Jo jumped at me, legs surrounding my hips, breasts on my chest, arms around my neck and hands in my hair and neck, lips catching mine and teeth biting them._

_I responded without hesitation, arms supporting her back and legs moving across the threshold. _

_Actively, her hips thrusted against mine and moaned when she felt how hard I was._

_Ripping her from my body, I threw her on the bed and she bounced twice violently, an excited noise in her throat. Before the mattress settled, My hands glided over her breasts. Her breath caught in anticipation. I was on top of her, pushing up her blood-stained white dress, fingers skimming over slightly prickled legs to reveal her matching satin underwear._

_She sat up to try and kiss me._

_I put my hand on her chest and forced her back down, springing her and the mattress again. I threw the underwear from her legs and spread them, mouth kissing her vertical lips._

_"Sam!" She groaned, loud._

"Sam!" Jo's less pleasured voice filled my ear.

"Sammy!" Dean's also panicked.

It was only then I realized I was holding my head in my hands, my breath heavy...and my libido hardening.

Oh shit.

"I'm...I'm fine, I just...need to sit." I clamored to the couch in the library, stunned by the memory that hit me.

"Look at what you've done!"

"I didn't do anything!" Jo's voice pitched like it did when she said my name. It sent shivers through my skin.

"You triggered something! That was his flashback face to Robo-days. So thank you."

Jo marched past Dean, and touched a hand to my shoulder.

A brick wall of memory hit me again.

_We were in her bunk at the Compound, her hands started at my shoulders then traced down slowly. I felt the electricity behind them as she stripped my shirt off to touch the bare skin._

_Her fingertips were gliding across my chest, tingling over my abdomen, scratching the edge of my jeans, pulling open the button and unzipping the rest. In a smooth move, my jeans were at my ankles and her lips closed in around -_

"Ahh!" I shouted myself back into reality, feeling the blood rushing to said area and tightening the space of my jeans.

Leaping off the couch, I bolted past her and Dean, rushing upstairs and slamming the guest bedroom door behind me before either of them could follow.

"Sammy!"

With Jo?

"Sam, don't be ridiculous!"

What. The. Fuck.

"Why are we going all high school here? Open the damn door!"

With Jo?!

I paced around the room, ignoring the knocks on the door and Dean's authoritative voice.

I was still pretty hard, and it wasn't going away with breathing, and I couldn't think about anything else to soften it. Memories with Jo and I were swimming.

A second pair of footsteps stomped up to where Dean was.

"You've done enough, get out of here."

"Fuck off, Dean. I'm the one who was there when whatever he's remembering went down alright? This is between me and Sam. That's it. Why don't _you go_ to the garage and work out your problems on your car okay?"

"No way."

"Dean." I spoke up to the other side of the door, "I'm alright. I want to talk to her."

"Sam-"

"I _need_ to talk to her."

"I think I should hear what you two-"

I opened the door, and stared my brother in his face.

"Dean, please."

There was a pause, and her looked from me to her, then back again.

With a gruff grunt, and glare at Jo, he turned heel and pounded down the stairs, slamming the back door behind him in anger.

I tried not to look at her for fear of another blinding memory attack.

I could feel my jaw flex.

She stepped into the room when I opened the door wider for her, and then closed and locked it behind us.

"Sam,"

I heard the flash of moaning double of her voice in my head.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I worked the knot of memory out from my neck, trying to focus on the present before the flashback could claim me again.

"Please don't say my name."

My fingers wormed over my face then through my hair, breathing in steadily.

"We can't have."

Jo caught on quick, "We did."

"Oh no. No, no, no, no."

Her face contorted in offense.

"Gee, thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that! I just...I mean...what the hell happened?!" I finally blurted.

She shrugged, sitting down on the bed, "Two people on the road together have...needs."

"But how did it happen?!"

"I tripped and fell on your dick." She gave me a 'duh' face.

I squeezed my eyes shut again and turned my back to her.

"I don't know what you want me to say Sam, it just happened."

"Did I force myself on you?"

"What? No, I...wanted it."

_"I want it now, Sam."_

_My hands broke away from her jaw and adjusted myself to her opening._

_"Beg for it." I grinned down at her._

_Instead, she tilted her pelvis and thrust herself down on me, then flipped our positions quickly while still inside. _

_With her on top, she began to grind, eyes staring mischievously down at me, "Never." _

"Please don't say things like that now!"

I turned to her again, trying to fight the vivid sensations of her on me, me inside her, our skin on skin.

"God, how many times?!"

Jo bit her lip and shrugged again.

"We were partners for seven months; I didn't exactly keep a score sheet."

She stood up, and came closer to me concerned, "Why? What's happening in that head of yours?"

I stepped back, her scent wafted toward me. Smelling her allowed another brief memory to jump forward;

_Her and I, bloodied after a hunt, heatedly kissing against a popcorn wall._

I squeezed the image away, trying so hard not to transfer the feelings of the flashbacks to my feelings now.

"Not all of it was sex, some gnarly monster stuff happened."

The closer she got, though, the harder it was; literally.

I could feel the barriers of the past and the present breaking.

I just wanted to throw her on the bed and bury my hard-on into her-

Fuck.

No.

Stop it.

"I don't think it's a good idea to be alone with you after all."

"Sam, we should talk about this."

"Jo, please!" My voice sounded weak, but I didn't care.

Her eyes dropped to my crotch, mouth opened to let in a sharp inhale.

"Oh."

On an impulse, my body reacted.

I grabbed her head in my hands and moved my lips into that gap.

Surprised and below me, she stepped back, but our kiss didn't part.

She fell on the bed, and I fell on top of her.

Jo rolled us over and pushed off, leaving me laying there to catch my breath.

"Look, when we were hunting together, I lasted three months holding out against your advances. Then one night I just gave in. And yeah, it was great and fulfilling, but there was no emotion there, Sam, no feeling for each other. We were both kind of-"

"Soulless?"

She let out a breath, "Yeah. I think spending all that time with you, I just turned into this Huntress..."

"I know what you mean." I intervened, knowing she was having a hard time explaining exactly what happened to her that year.

"And you have the perfect bow wrapping it all up for you. It wasn't really you, it was just you without a soul. And me...I _remember_ it all, all the things I did, everything I could have done to stop you..."

I saw the tears water up her eyes, and felt my muscles relax in empathy.

"If you were soulless, what does that make me?"

"Jo, you're not a bad person."

She wiped one tear that escaped away quickly.

"Yeah, sure."

"I have to live with the fact that it was some _part _of me that did all this too. What I did to Bobby, and everything I did to you...I'm going to try and set things right."

Jo's eyes went downcast.

"Somethings you can't just up and fix, Sam."

"It might help if I knew the story?"

She scoffed again, "What more do you want to know?"

"What happened...after all of...that?"

With a sigh, she continued the story, "We kept hunting monsters. They were popping up everywhere, all kinds. We found the Campbells, and...that was over, along with our partnership. You started hunting with Samuel, I dabbled with them but had a solo career. There was no need to keep the...arrangement. Then you guys found Dean and Samuel called me back to the bunk and that was it."

"I'm sorry -"

"Don't let it confuse you, Sam. You don't have to feel guilty about it, you don't owe me anything emotionally for what we did, and I don't want you starting up feelings from memories that don't even matter anymore. You were literally a different person. I was a different person. Let's just leave it at that."

"But I didn't mean to kiss you just now -"

"You were caught in the heat of the moment, I got it."

I let out a frustrated breath, from her phrasing, remembering that endless Tuesday.

Hey, that seemed to dull the blood-flow down there.

Once the air and my libido was cooled, she spoke.

"Are we good?

"Yeah...I guess."

An awkward moment passed, I avoided her eyes directly.

"So what do we do now?"

She took in a breath, "Go back to 'normal' it'll be awkward for a while, but hey, I won't be around that much anyway. I'm definitely not jonesing to hang around either of you Winchesters now."

I felt the blood drain even more so from my body, "Dean...oh god he'll kill me."

She scoffed, "Seems like he would kill me over you in this situation."

It was my turn to scoff, "Yeah, sure. We're not telling Dean."

"And this will be an actual secret right? Not one of those Winchester secrets that lasts a week?" she sneered.

"I have some long-term secrets from Dean. Like before when we-" I blurted and cut myself off suddenly. Cursing myself for referring to a different part of our past with sex.

"Sorry-"

"No," She swallowed, and cleared her throat, "No, that was...different. That was Meg, not you."

"But-"

"That was Demon work, Sam, in this you didn't have a soul, and it was consensual. Completely different."

I nodded, hoping to brush that memory away with all the others.

"Dean will never know." I vowed after a moment of silence.

Jo only nodded, and let herself out of the room.

* * *

I brought Dean a beer.

I knew he was down, on seeing Jo and Lisa back to back even though he wouldn't admit it, but also about the case, how it didn't turn out better like most of the spirit jobs do.

Luckily, he didn't ask me about my recent soulless memory breakthrough.

I think apart of him figured it out. Subconsciously, at least.

But seeing him dispirited wore me down too, so I tried to lift him back up. I reminded him of all the good we've done, all the other lives we've saved, how my soul was back, how I've got his back always.

And Jo was right; I wasn't soulless anymore.

It was time to try and put it all behind.


End file.
